


A Devil's Reform: The Mansion

by angel939



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Action/Adventure, Boys Kissing, Brothers, Conflict, Control Issues, Dark Comedy, Devils, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Falling In Love, Family, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Forbidden Love, Fun, Gen, Jaguars, Jealousy, Lust Potion/Spell, Multi, Other, Power Dynamics, Psychotropic Drugs, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Swearing, Twincest, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, Wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-24 17:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 100,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6160575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel939/pseuds/angel939
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dante's unruly behaviour has forced Sparda's hand to employ the help of his older son to train their uncontrollable devil. How will Dante react when he finds out that his parents are leaving him behind to be ruled by the tyrant that goes by the name of Vergil? Who knows what will transpire over the next two weeks as the Mansion turns into a war zone for control and power...or possibly something else altogether? The possibilities are limitless but you just know this head-to-head will be a battle worth pursuing, a crash course by a very stern teacher vs one unruly student. Who will win and who will lose out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Inauguration

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Notes:
> 
> Hello everyone and welcome to our latest story. As many of you may be aware I like to write about darker themes and yet here I am trying my hands at humour. This story is just getting started so I haven't decided which direction it will take and the sort of bond I want between our lovely twins. So let us forget these trivial matters and simply enjoy the first chapter and worry about the extra tags, warnings for a later stage. This setting is very suitable of DMC3, including, many of the devil arms that will surely turn up. However this story is not following the game plots and solely belongs to me.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own DMC, it is in the rightful ownership of Capcom and not I. These guys also own Ryu from Street Fighter who was slyly mentioned somewhere here ;)

Dante stretched and scuffled to acquire his omitted denims which were laid beneath the hot nude blonde that was nuzzling his moulded spine, her well-endowed boobs poking. This was the girl’s bedroom and he had failed to recall her name, not that it mattered. The petite brunette, who was her roommate, whined as he pushed her beautiful legs away bent between his. Rule number one he never ever slept with the same chick twice. Rule number two was already in its surreptitious tactics, to evacuate the premises before the ladies could awaken from their drunken torpor and cling to his bosom with sweet confessions of love. What the hell was love? This promptly takes him to rule number three, never get caught with your pants down in the course of curfew.

Dante slipped on his jeans. Well-proportioned body silhouettes as he establishes the time, it was almost 4 a.m., he had exactly ten minutes to abscond the scene and get home, creeping, grabbing his boots, top and jacket. Unscrewing the window, he glanced over his shoulder to record the stats so far. In his 18 years of fundamental being, the useless Son of Sparda’s present tally of bedded women was tallying around the, I lost count mark. 

Condoms were a half-breed devils best friend. Eva and Sparda would likely disown his sorry ass for his straying and promiscuous regime. Sex was virtuous and he obligated diversity, he had a hearty sexual appetite. However keeping up appearances was critical. Sparda was at the end of his tether over his questionable and rather disgraceful conduct of late. Mislaying his good mood he devil triggered. Soaring through the clouds like a black phantom, red orbs enlightening the dark skies, the twinkling horizon radiating his red shimmering scales as his heart pumped adrenaline to haste speed and avert disaster, wings overpowering, and thrusting storms enough to make a hurricane blush. He loved to unleash his devil and yet this too had to be watered-down like it was some kind of sickness.

Not only did he have to worry about hiding his superpowers and notwithstanding being the offspring of a full-fledged devil, he had exams, grades, tests like a normal teenager to deal with. The tests didn't just stop in confines of the all-male private school. They continued at home utterly unavoidable. Sparda put him through a meat grinding and punishing regime into their demonic legacy, containing physical combat to replicate trips into their hellish past. Indoor Japanese Dojos with supplies of artilleries to master martial arts, boxing, shaolin, gymnastics. The list never ended. You master one you move onto the next. 

"Never stop learning, it is why we are here" Sparda would remind before drilling his ass to the floor dressed like Ryu from Street Fighter which was his favourite pastime, playing on the gaming console. 

Reality and entertainment were two very different things. The torture of mastering the physical arts wasn't so bad considering their demonic healing blood would rebuild the questionable domestic poundings. It was the scheduled hourly literature studies which were sending him over the edge, learning Latin, Aramaic, and Hebrew in order to read ancient texts which could put the British Library to disgrace. The most spacious room in the entire Sparda Mansion was filled with collections amassed over time, magnificent spiralling staircases leading to rows upon rows of shelves which lead to the rooftops. The top floor was dedicated to stargazing in order to learn the wonders of the physical world? Physics, astronomy, chemistry were learned under a canopy of stars. Expensive telescopes were installed around the spacious balcony for this sole drive.

"You must learn about the world we live in, in all its physical actuality and infinite space. As such Dante you will learn not to merely live but understand the mechanisms behind living and why we are here."

Dante yawned at the recall. He used the Grande Library to sleep, not study. It was definitely the warmest location and usually a good place to hide out when shit hit the fan. This is where the tides of ongoing problems were stacking up. Dante had no interest in the forefronts of obtaining knowledge and new intellects. His grades had been falling steadily since he spent most days ditching classes to hang out in the all-girls hostel conveniently located nearby. The principle had called Sparda personally to report him. Dante didn’t care. He rather party, have sex, and smoke pot like a regular human teen. What the hell did they expect? And in doing so the clash between the household head and their delinquent son had commenced in full swing. 

Sparda had crippled his disobedient behaviour by swiftly cutting off his allowances. Dante had vowed to leave the house and never to return. The bluff was a bluff. He was far too pampered and lazy to leave behind his lavish existence which came with living at home. Employment was out of the question whereby he thoroughly relished his current standard of living. The mansion was cosmic. Numerous swimming pools, Jacuzzis, steam rooms, tennis courts were not something a meagre job could guarantee. The thought of him working like a slave was laughable. How could a prince become a pauper? Why the hell would he take orders from some twat to dictate his life, thirsting freedom, and spur of the moments...evanescent pleasures? It was what life was all about. 

Sparda was too distrustful about hiring mortal staff to look after the brilliant architecture so his solution had been simple. Everyone had a devil arms serving them with the exception of their mother whom was looked after by all sprites. Eva had no demonic heritage to speak off. Full-fledged Demons were only loyal if you shared Sparda bloodlines. They operated as chefs, cleaners, guards, and personal attendants. The one assigned to Dante was named bafflingly Rebellion when he had only desired Yamato, her breasts made his groin ache. But no, even she had slipped into the other devils hand and apparently enthusiastically. The razor blade had elected her master as Vergil. Her loss he recapped. Dante de-triggered, panting heavily as he soared the massive black gates, scrambling his landing when he felt shards of ice crackle through the floor ascending his shoes and immobilising his legs.

Dante growled pissed knowing full well what the damned mutt intended. "Quit it".

Cerberus rustled from slumber, icy bristles and snow puffs blowing from his nostrils and mouth as he materialised chained beside the arching entrances of rows upon rows of curvatures, paws pattering on the immaculate marble of the first acre of the secreted mansion. The three distinct fountains in the labyrinth rose gardens were planted and designed by his mother. The botanical gardens were eccentric and imbedded with love. The sprites and devils consisting of succubus had fostered these flowers to produce fragrances of sweet scents which acted as natural diffusers, perfuming the air they breathed.

Their father loved ancient gardens as such these were designed specifically to replicate the past, lines of orange trees blooming with white flowers, fruiting pomegranates and almond trees for their exotic appearance. These yards enclosed the finest of specimens and rarest of floras. Had Dante taken the courtesy to view them in detail? They all looked the same to him, trees and glorified shrubs, immune to their aromas and exquisiteness, blind of the love taken to enclose the best of all worlds’ cultures. Japanese bonsai, eastern olives, Far East orchids, list went on with purpose to shower their sons of the celebrated philosophies, tastes and spices from around the biosphere. This was not limited to the gardens but to every part of the far reaching mansion.

The guard dog was growing in size and stature with each impending step, "you’re late" he barked.

Dante tsk annoyed, shuffling his pockets to obtain his get out of jail free card. He and Cerberus had managed to make mutual arrangements to let him in the house without being reported, tossing the goods, beef jerky. The brute had become hooked to the jerky and was the hound’s guilty pleasure who could only consume a small amount, kind of like catnip. Cerberus was munching greedily with teeth made for cracking a body in half, the ice melting around Dante's leg, releasing his hostage, who flapped his hand dismissively.

"You know the deal dog...not a word".

Cerberus snarled low in his delirious state, licking the remaining outlawed scraps, "he is…suspicious".

Dante stopped in his tracks "what did you say?”

Cerebrus muzzle scrubbed the marble. A sneer emergent over twisted fangs which were bared as his form blanketed behind a hazy fog, evaporating and masking. His red orbs demarcating the red flags, things were about to change radically, "master", the dog commented vanishing. He was in custody of safeguarding these premises not sitting failed imps. This unruly child was not to his liking, unlike his better half. Dante clenched his fists, how could he deny something was off. Alert as he climbed the lush vines to avoid using any demonic powers to continue undetected. The vines tracked straight to his room, halting near the window of his adversary who would be waking at 5 a.m. like a surreal vampire, wondering if he would rise from the bed like in the horror movies, the annoying suck-up, the arrogant prick, their perfect son. 

"Bastard robot" Dante mumbled under his breathe at the Grande king size bed made for a sovereign. Extravagant gilt bed sheets were encompassing the equitable inheritor to Sparda’s inheritances...Ver-gil. The immaculate and orderly room made him want to vomit. This part of building was off-limits and these sneaky peeks were his resentful foretaste of their differing chambers. The estranged guy sleeping inside was supposed to be his twin but non-existent in Dante's lifecycle. The self-righteous haughty ass had no friends since he alleged his intellect was not in par with, “chimpanzees”, the designation given to all mortals. Even those who tried to make friends with him from the nerd and Geek pecking order were cut down by a frosty, contemptuous, death glare. The guy was an utter loner who topped the 1st grade, every fucking time, which meant additional pressure on him since he was getting nowhere scholastically. It wasn't fucking fair to walk into the hallways to find the exam results plastered to the boards and to find his name topmost, a little jealous and resentful to say the least.

The only time Dante and Vergil were forced to interrelate was during the involuntary sparring sessions and eating dinner as a family unit. Where they avoided eye contact the way two strangers would do on public transport, these awkward and annoying household instances where one and all were present, but clearly inattentive. He climbed and hovered inside having deviously left the window unhooked, tripping over the flung garments, game controllers, and unkempt disorderly bed where he managed to crawl inside and snuggle, shutting off his alarm clock which was set to go off for 6 a.m., for the unwanted sparring session scheduled for fucking Sunday morning. What sort of perverse family was this? A low knock pounded his door as soon as he let out a revived breathe. Dante knew the annoying ‘thing’ had arrived. How ‘it’ knew of his whereabouts at all times was beyond creepy, the unwanted minute stalker. Dante pitched a loud sigh and crawled out of comfort to unlock the door, glaring down at the little brat.

"What" he snapped scratching his naked chest?

Rebellions rotund bright green eyes enlarged in adoration, two beauty spots beneath each eyeball. The form was that of a child of 6, black hair cut short to match the circular face, pastel skin, pink lips juddered, nervous. This was the chosen unimposing form of his devil arm when it was not in its blade form, the kid stammered.

"I...I bing you tiz" Rebellion slid a platter with much effort into view. 

Four sizzling mouth-watering pancakes dribbled with home-grown honey, bananas, strawberries and toasted almonds. Dante's mouth salivates, a tiny bud vase with a flower for beautification. Rebellion had picked this one from the gardens. His master had halted his training long ago so Rebel had started to help the other sprites around the house with errands and household tasks. This was a rare rose which had coloured a striking olive. He was still dressed in his work attire, black boots and brown coveralls. Fingers covered in grime and mud from tending the weeds.

The other demons felt sorry for him so endured to keep the untrained fledging interested, including the headless chefs Agni and Rudra who had abetted the groundwork for these pancakes. Rebellion lifted the tray which Dante procured briskly, rushing to find a clear spot on the pashmina rug to demolish. He was ravenous, confiscating the fork and knife from the napkin knocking the vase over. The flower fell out, the carpet sipped. Dante didn't notice chomping the pancakes loudly; a meal would make for better sleep. He had no intentions of getting out of bed until noon. Rebellion had entered his room, without consent, to pick up the fallen floret.

Dante notified, "hey, brat, did I say you can come in" repeating the room was off limits.

Rebellion lowered "sovvy" unsteady he didn't wish to offend his master but retrieving the flower had been intuitive.

Dante gnawed, "get out and tell Sparda am not feeling well, so don't wake me...understand?"

Rebellion grew troubled small fingers pressing Dante's forehead, "you is sick?"

Dante grumbled, spanking his hand away "just go would ya" exasperated.

He didn't know why but the sight of this kid, thing, whatever the heck it was made him feel aggravated. He got stuck with this one and didn’t want to take responsibility for it. The wounded devil arm withdrew quietly, tiptoeing to close the door. Walking down the impressively lengthy hallway carpeted in royal red. 

"Rebel..." a feminine voice expressed.

The child turned and greeted the beautiful female dressed in an immaculate gold coloured Ao Dai; a tight-fitting silk tunic with matching pants. Her long white tresses were flowing down past her hips, a fringe casing her eyes, the colour of Oriental jade. Unblinking as she paced towards him. Yamato was the most beautiful form that only a female could accomplish.

"Show me" the voice like chimes blowing on a spring day. 

Rebel curled the flower tighter "no" gathering.

Mato lowered on one knee and laughed quietly, "so frightful...just look at what you have become” tilting his small chin upwards, “tut, tut, you’re fading...it is so very sad, your owner is a lost cause. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him…reckless”.  


Rebel stepped away, "it's, it does be, becoz he busy" the door clicked, interposing.

Mato rose with poise at her owner's oncoming footprints, eyes closing mildly to heed his footsteps as if they could change the pulses of her heartbeats. Although he had an En Suite bathroom he preferred the one located near the scenic gardens which is why she had waited in this specific passageway. Mato smiled and turned, bowing deeply, her dress ever-changing in loveliness, munificent in beauty, her movements were mesmerizing. It was the reason Dante was lovesick and had chased her insistent but her master was one and only. 

Vergil was dressed in a blue silk robe hair drifting to his forehead which he raked back, all-pervading eyes drifting towards the tiny devil arm that was hindering his path. Rebellion could never meet this twin’s gaze. He was terrified of Vergil and didn't know why. Maybe it was because of the authority and power emanating from his form. Vergil was well-educated and had become proficient in wielding and mastering his skills. Rebel felt inferior in the company of the edge and her exceptional master, cowering behind her dress to conceal his dwindling form. Rebel and Mato were in fact the same age, every year Mato had gained in strength. Rebel's growth had halted for Dante never taught with him. As such, Mato had grown in physique, build and height reaching 23. Rebel simply declined, withering and growing frail. Vergil walked past and slanted his head. The bud had caught his courtesy.

"You cut it?” The voice detached.

Mato rapt Rebels ear and pressed knowing the question was directed at the undeveloped blade. Rebel held in a pitiful cry of pain. "I...div", confessing. He didn't know it was forbidden to take flowers from the garden, about to cry.

Vergil scolded lightly "never cut a healthy flower. You may take the ones which have fallen. They still retain beauty and form even when tumbled".

Rebel felt guilty, "sovvy" he didn't want to cry and released the prohibited floret which fell to the floor.

Vergil drew closer as if to take a good look at him, rereading and assimilating. His brows arching as Rebels eyes were lured away from the safety of the floor to the blue skies beyond. Vergil's watch was intimidating but it had been a long time since they had intermingled. The arctic devil squatted and took the flower in his clutch. Rebel caught a glimpse of his beautiful lean fingers conjecturing what it would have felt like to be yielded by these qualified and skilled hands, dispirited, disappointed and irate for feeling this way. Was he not berating Dante with these ill-mannered feelings?

Vergil voice sailed. "This one is rare” sending a silent tremor within Rebellion. 

He had never been this close to Vergil before, small hands clamping together. If he had belonged to this twin he would be as tall as the sky, hurt. Vergil elevated taking the floret with him. Yamato jerked her dress and tailed unquestioningly. This was clock-work for the duo for Sparda would be waiting for their monotonous routine. Rebel patted his sore and reddened ear wishing he could join them but how could he go without his master who would be missing out again. The process was far more costly for Rebel. If this continued he would revert back to being an ordinary blade with no shape or form. How could he catch up to Mato, drifting through the walls hoping to dissolve? Bending to sleep, the blade laid still in the darkened weaponry chamber, the skulls flashing red as the steel glinted in the darkness, collecting dust. 

Vergil showered and dressed in his black pants and tactical vest. The Judo room was their arena for combat, sliding the wooden panel to arrive. Sparda was seated cross legged inside cleaning his enormous jagged blade, glinting purple and red. A task he undertook routinely with painstaking love and care. His blade was named after him and had slept for millennia’s. It's true form forever veiled to them and only known to Sparda who had never found out the reason for why his blade had chosen to disobey him this long, never to resuscitate, simply serve its purpose as an edge but forever etched in silence. Vergil sat down opposite, observing captivatedly. Mato materialised beside him bowing deeply to Sparda before returning to her original form. A lethal katana was glinting beside Vergil, concealed in a black and gold lacquered casing. 

Sparda droned, "I have a request of you". 

Vergil knew they were not here for jarring. Sparda was clad in one of his stylish black business suits, perfectly tailored to fit his muscular form, with a fitting white shirt. Mane cut short and pared, their father was far more handsome for he was a full-fledged devil. The garb wasn’t unusual for all external conferences and meetings were held on premises. State of the art meeting rooms with the necessary equipment for private consultations, calls, projectors. Vergil glanced at Mato having guessed the reasons for the summit. 

Vergil calculated, "father, there are causes to be concerned but was it not you who counselled me not to impede in what he does?”

Sparda heaved a sigh and handed him the other ‘evidence’ of wild conduct.

Vergil reviewed, peaks curved, lips tightened. "It is not my place and neither my choice. What he does with his body and life. Although a pregnancy would be…” they both grimaced interiorly.

Sparda halted knowing he would have to use his trump card for it was the only way he could entice Vergil's intervention that could help knock some sense into his identical. More over their private jet was waiting and so was Eva. Sparda didn't want the Mrs to do a full U Turn before the chore had even instigated. Extracting an additional piece of paper from his pocket and sliding it towards Vergil who regarded, reading the contents, eyes constricting with understanding. Sparda grinned artfully knowing this bribe would work, he was certain of it, the pass-code to break the seal to access the crypt.

"If you agree the keys to the cellar are yours along with...them" expression blanching.

The ‘things’ in the vault were known only as Ebony and Ivory, the wildest most sadistic identical devil arms vaulted in the confines of concrete steel. No one but Sparda was allowed entry and he had even gone to the extensive lengths of sealing the area with his darker powers. Vergil wanted to make them his own but Sparda had found the request dangerous for they didn't want to belong to any devil or half-breed, in pursuit of personal freedom, making them unruly, uncontrollable, deviant little terrors. 

Vergil was converted, "you have my agreement".

Sparda exhaled, “please be careful. I know your skills are beyond your years but the two of them have been around for centuries, with no master, nor control".

Vergil vowed "they will learn their place".

Eva revolved her golden hair in a bun. She had an appointment to keep. Inspecting her diamond watch and adjusting her figure fitting dress, slumping on the bed to slip on her stilettos. Gripping her handbag, she wanted to exit before Dante awoke. Their a few seconds younger son was the one she doted over, on the other hand what her husband had prearranged for him was currently in manoeuvre, disputed and stuck in the middle. Dante's controlling emotional blackmail had worked its appeals in the past but not today. Eva would avoid him at all costs. She didn't have the heart to intervene and knew it had to be done. Dante had to change his ways, they all had gotten tired of his apologies. How long could she overlook Rebellions diminishing figure? She had observed the deserted devil arm and knew it was now or never to mend the one who was technically supposed to be looking after him. Covering her face with both hands and creaking.

"Stay strong", counting the days, "2 weeks, I can do this". 

They had an extravagant all inclusive trips planned to Mauritius on their privately owned island, checking her baggage. They were ready as parents to take the necessary steps towards rehabilitating their disorderly son. Eva ran out of her room, halting outside Dante's, passing, coming back and unbolting the doors to take a peek inside. The area looked like it had been blustered by a hurricane, which was an appropriate description of the one sleeping soundly. It was cleaned day and night but by the time Dante got back it was back in this sorry state. Eva slipped inside, meticulously making her way over the heaps of litter to locate her snoozing son, about to cry, stifling a sob she glided one finger over his warm cheek and slipped an explanation note where Dante would spot it, beside the bed lamp. The hubby had prohibited any communication with the delinquent this dawn and she had betrayed Sparda’s orders with maternal disobedience. Nevan had tracked her down and was waiting outside the doors with her misplaced luggage, handbag and passport.

Eva clicked the door shut, "Nevan" she pressed.

Nevan was their personal secretary, dressed jobwise in a tight fitting blouse and pelt skirt. The blouse a little too low revealing the fine bulges, the skirt a little too short revealing the lengthy legs, fiery hair smouldering down her shoulders. Her stylish designer frames making her look like a sinister seducing vamp which was her applicable character description. 

Nevan laughed beautifully. "Mistress" she cooed doing her mouth in a zipping motion and pressing her specs. "Master waits in the car, we should leave" hastening their getaway.

Nevan dragged the items for Eva with her otherworldly strength. The mistress of the house that all demons doted over correspondingly glanced one more time at the foot of the doors. Their exit was from the back of the East side, another ten minute walk, clack, and clack, their heels greeting the marble. Eva was anxious as they made their way collected. Nevan’s hips swaying side to side as she marched briskly and loaded the luggage into the Rolls Royce which was parked out front. Nevan would be operating as their personal bodyguard, driver and escort for the duration of their trip, encountering Vergil and Sparda who were engaging in dialogue. The elder son noted his mother's arrival with a deep bow. Eva rushed over and hugged Vergil who frowned uncomfortably. He had grown out of these cuddles but for Eva her sons were still children who had immeasurably grown taller than her.

"Vergy...don't make me say it...?"

Vergil’s brow twitched at the unceremonious lecturing. He hated being called his baby name. Opening the Rolls door, "you have nothing to worry about...father has counselled and I will not let you down".

Eva made a whimpering sound of approval, moved by the speech and the spectacle of her well groomed son. Overcome with tears, "I know", she cried and kissed his cheek, slipping inside without another word. 

Sparda approached "make sure he...doesn't burn the house down. The news will come as quite a shock to him."

Vergil motioned to the Rolls as Nevan slammed the bonnet shut, prancing over to the driver’s side but not before giving Vergil an insolent wink. He glared and looked away. Nevan was the only arm that dared to provoke his temperament with her ill-mannered conduct; pleased with her work she ignited the engine with her powers. Nevan’s specialism was electricity; keys were not required, handing a silk handkerchief to Eva who was watching Dante's window. 

Nevan slid forward. "You have nothing to worry...He is capable".

Eva gazed at Vergil as Sparda handed over the keys and all responsibility and affairs over to his son to burden for the next two weeks, the main one being the missile that was upstairs. Vergil gripped the keys with effortlessness but to his surprise Sparda embraced him. The gesture was odd for he had taken after his father when it came to replicating affection, hands awkwardly returning the greeting.

Sparda reminded “I trust you will call me if there are any issues".

Vergil reviewed the mansion, "everything will be in order upon your arrival. I assure you" brazenly confident of his superior capabilities in handling large unruly canines and he wasn't referring to Cerberus but the boisterous mongrel that had caused this escalation and intervention. 

Vergil had two weeks to train Dante and in doing so activate Rebels true powers, development and evolution. Sparda patted his shoulder supportively glancing upwards at the dormant volcano which would be erupting around noon when he finds out his summer vacation was off to a very bad start. Sparda slipped beside his fussing wife. Eva was overcome and tried to hold back her tears at their parting. Nevan eased out of the driveway honking farewell to preclude any more family drama.

"Master" Mato stood beside him matching his height.

Vergil stroked his fingers, "make sure no one awakens him until I say so".

Mato bowed, "it shall be done".

Dante swiped the drool from his lips, pillow soaked as he awakened to pitch black. It was nightfall. He had evidently overslept, the entire day. An ominous feeling growing as he blinked in disbelief. Everyone had left him alone...It was odd. Something didn't feel right, stomach howling, he had missed lunch. Slipping out of bed and stepping on the mess that were his garments. Chafing his face with both hands and clicking the button to his bedside lamp where an envelope was deskbound. It was his mother's hand writing, "Dante" with a smiley face. He ripped the envelope and read the directives.

Vergil was seated, out of sight, in the confines of a hidden library passage only known to him. This site gave an overview of the doors which were strategically lined with his diverted gaze. The monkey had awakened and his loud and brash foot stomps were heading this way. Vergil wanted to savour the look of utter misery and humiliation on his identical face to dissect what he would have resembled if he were to be in such a wretched situation. The magnificent doors were blown open by the butt naked raging bull that was the red devil. In his rampant anger he hadn’t troubled clothing his modesty. The elder, by a few seconds, was not moved by the impudent sight of the unrefined individual below. They were worlds apart in sophistication and style. Yet Vergil’s heart had strangely paced in excitement when he saw the determined crimson orbs flashing with ferocity, hoping that the man panting below would provide him with a challenging trial. Vergil would ultimately tame the uninhabited brute but without a fight the task would be decidedly tedious.

"Vergil you fucking bastard come out right now" tearing the paperwork submitted to him and flicking it in the air. Reproachful, "what did he bribe you with huh?"

Vergil emerged above the spiral staircase still dressed for the occasion in his combat clothes, assessing Dante with an uninterested expression. "That is none of your concern...brother" callously sardonic. They were not equals and Vergil would sustain to look down on him from overhead.

Dante grinded his teeth, "is this a fucking joke, all of you ganging up on me like this..." enraged.

Vergil opened a new text sliding out a golden envelope. He flung it in Dante's direction so fast that it smacked his forehead. A bulging line protruding on Dante's skin emphasising his temper. Eyes constricting, fists clenched. Sensing Vergil was feeding off his explosive emotions, plastering them. He pointed to the paperwork.

"It is self-explanatory and designed so that even an idiot like you would understand…a timetable”.

Dante bent and picked up the paperwork to read. Trying to calm himself as to not give the super prick looking down on him anymore gratification. He perused and faked a smile; crumpling the paper.

"Fuck you" he blew. "You can shove this up your ass if you think I'm going to follow this shit or anything else you say".

Vergil jumped the partition and vaulted down majestically, stepping in front of his latest challenger, the first one on his agenda, the second Ebony and Ivory of course. Vergil picked up the discarded paper and straightened the creases, lips pointed.

"I suggest you memorise this, for I will not give you another copy. Failure to comply with each day will lead to...severe castigation".

The friction, the clash, the tension mounting with each step Vergil took towards him, the pressure in the room horrifyingly suffocating.

"This is not a joke and nor do I have the tendency to repeat myself", leaning into Dante's ear, "not even for a thick headed clown like you" voice one-to-one.

Dante grinned, "you’re hurting my feelings…bro, think you can underestimate me...?” Puffing his mane, "I will make your life a...living fucking hell...ya dig" eyes constricting.

Vergil stepped close enough that Dante could swallow his scent, inner devil inquisitive for they had never interacted this long in negotiation. He sniffed Vergil and halted. What the fuck was he doing…sniffing? The blue devil hadn’t noticed too caught up in the opening battle monologue.

"I will break you and your pride, little brother" jesting to test his reactions, long fingers brushing Dante's wrist, the touch so faint that the other didn't notice, much to his error. 

Vergil's lips tilted to form a rare smile having struck first. Vergil's plans were always discreet, quiet and serene just like him. This dangerous tide that Dante was about to tread was perilous to say the least.

Dante regained his senses, ego conflicting, "oh yeah I'd like to see you try...am not like one of your shabby devil arms that will submit to your will and become your bitch". The insult was undoubtedly directed at Mato whom Vergil was particularly possessive over. 

Vergil's smile faded, glare intense, expression mild but a flicker of anger igniting within his icy blues. Jaw lined to deliver the singular warning. 

"Follow my instructions for I will not put up with your lowly attitude." Stepping back, "Mother and father are not here to indulge you. As such, it is I who has been put in custody of this house and all affairs concerning the Sparda household, counting all occupants, even disobedient mutts".

Dante snorted rudely "so what, you think am going to listen to you just coz they said to, wishful thinking bro. As far as am concerned we can get along perfectly if you stay out of my way like you have been for the last 18 motherfucking years" vindictive. 

He brushed past Vergil, kicking his legs up on the table while reclining on the leather sofa, knocking the expensive vase over which shattered against the marble with ear-splitting effect. "Oops", Dante jeered making his intents demonstratively clear. If Vergil thought he could be tamed he was horribly mistaken and would find out the hard way.

"Looks like you better report that to headquarters Verge" grin widening. Just a taster of what was installed if Vergil clashed with him. He would burn down this house if he had to.

Vergil's evils deadened. Jaw clamped, it was the informal pet name that had set off his bad mood, brows curving elegantly. "I warned you", elevating his hand and chanting in demonic dialect, eyes burning cerise. 

Dante smirked and folded his arms, "scary" chuckling when his wrists suddenly burned. It was as if there were thorns being wedged inside his veins. "What the fuck..." he watched horrified as what seemed to be black ink emerged into a spherical band around his scorching flesh, transmuting into a thorny tattoo. 

Dante roared erecting, "what the fuck...is this!" disbelieving that he could be violated like this, the highest form of domestic abuse. Mumbling incredulous as he tried to foolishly rub it away, burning his fingertips. "What the...fuccckkkk", baffled.

Vergil grew bored rigid with his whingeing. He had especially researched this seal to control the baboon knowing it would likely lash out, having mastered the dark arts at the tender age of 16. Black magic had incredibly potent affects and allowed for supreme rule and terror executing the victim destitute. Caressing his fingertips, allowing his afflicted target to digest his newest infirmity before forewarning about breaking the rules he had established. There had to be clear rubrics and boundaries so that he could observe the end product, instilling fear and dominance first to warrant strict control.

"You will obey...me", was picking up the pieces of the broken vase tranquilly. "You will not step outside the vicinity of this house without my consent...or else…" hissing.

Dante stepped on the shards of glass, piercing his flesh, "you" he growled. Devil enraged chest heaving in anger about to explode, “or else" shaking. 

Vergil smiled. He raised his head and met Dante's crimsons whose face was distorted in fury, hair flowing downwards "or else" he reminded like a ticking bomb. Arms dangling, neck twisted, "what?" Through clenched teeth.

Vergil's fingers rose delineating his wrist delicately, "I know this hurts" harsh. The fingers descended downwards, leaving the red devil’s skin throbbing. The outlines of prickles and thorns trailed Vergil's cool fingers as he chanted hypnotically. Dante could hear the sound of rigorous drumming and whispers amid his membranes, the hair on the back of his neck rising at the evocative speech. 

"Would you like this thorn’s elsewhere..." Vergil’s voice was conveying the threat inside his head, reverberating, “elsewhere?”

Dante paled as Vergil's stare moved to his balls and Crown jewels, all on exhibition, which he covered with both hands protectively, grinding his teeth, both irreplaceable and highly operational articles which had shrivelled and wilted under the disturbing premonition and sharp gaze.

Dante abridged Vergil's qualities precisely "you sadistic fucker".

Vergil erected, "now you know what's at stake. I suggest you comply...dearest brother" enjoying his triumph but this conflict had only just instigated.

Vergil's irises were swirling like a pond caught in the gateways of a cyclone, "any further trouble will result in stark punishment, for I am a stern teacher and I command respect from my…pupils".

Dante swallowed the saliva that was choking his throat. He hated to admit up close Vergil was one scary motherfucker. A vicious smile wrapped the elder's lips as if he was trailing his chain of thoughts making Dante pace rapidly away, unnerved, huffing and puffing banging the door shut behind him. Vergil's smile widened as the door swayed open, again. The rogue stomped back inside to snatch the paperwork from his grasp. For the very first time in his life mirth was about to flee his lips but he collected folding both hands behind his back. 

Dante vowed "don't think this is over, I swear to God I will make you pay" trotting backwards and vanishing.

Vergil overheard sniffling and moaning as Dante didn't quite gasp that he could hear him further down the corridors with his demonic hearing. 

Dante sobbed, "how could you mom leave me with this butcher...I expected it from the old man but you..." holding his aching wrists when the sadist aired from afar, disconnected voice floating.

"I can hear you...you idiot" hint of glee in his low sung voice. "Childish", Vergil's concluding insult on Dante's current predicaments.

Dante's anger spiralling, he roared, "you just wait and watch what I do to you...” calming. 

Everyone had a weakness, he had to find Vergil’s and exploit aggressively to recover switch. He also needed a name for his enemy having been called a mutt, monkey, and God knows what else, agitatedly trying to find one, giving up, “asshole” he puffed low deciding to eat first to recover self-control and sketch his own battle plans for later. How could he think on an empty stomach?

Vergil started to piece the broken vase, summoning his black magic to alternate the rubbles. They drifted together, restoring the innards to their necessities. The rehabilitated ornament floated onto the table. The first hostile charge of leashing the big mutt was completed. Next would be the grooming and feeding before the arduous task of disciplining could begin. Vergil stroked his throbbing wrists. The invisible thorns were embedded equally in his flesh. Meddling with dark arts had its consequences, for the performer would have to suffer equally, unseen, whereas the victim bears the visible marks.

"So it begins", brows curled with cutting.

Now was the time to pick a side. For this house and all occupants involved were about to embark on a daring and unforgettable struggle for power. Who would be triumphant, the unruly student or his unrelenting and remorseless teacher?


	2. The Clash

Dante moseyed into the sizeable pantry seating on the over-the-top banqueting table, gazing outwards to get the best view of the entire estate. The cascades and springs could be seen in the picturesque solitariness. The structural design here was made up of the finest rock crystal, reproducing a glasshouse. The creeping plants draped the edifice with plush yellow and purple buds spilling over and titivating the structure with their sweet-smelling bouquets and tinges. The fallen flowers speckled all corners of the quadrangular structure as well as the see-through rooftops. It started to rain and the beads echoed soft patters on the slates and down the untarnished cut-glass. Their home mirrored the caprices of unreal and illusory fantasy, yet everything far and in-between was exquisitely unpretentious. Dante grumbled head down on the board unimpressed.

"Pizza and make it fast", still disturbed by the prior hostility and challenge.

"We have a guest brother", the thick voice erupted from within the mammoth wooden-oven.

"Master Dante?!" exploded the enthralled identical reply.

"Yes, it is so", emanated the eager answer.

Dante slapped his forehead, "shut up and just make it, no olives and no freaking rocket" spoilt-rotten.

"Brother you heard the request", perturbed.

"Yes, yes, brother I heard", reassuring.

"It has been a long time since Master Dante joins us, comprehensively anxious.

"Much too long, it is so pleasing to have such an exceptional guest", jubilant.

A blaze of fire and Agni emerged, a gigantic sandy mannish form with no head. Clad in a Chef's apparel. This too was a razor edge in its blade form. Rudra warped beside him in parallel attire, the body blue to emphasise their different strengths as rapiers. One was made of ice, the other fire, when yielded. Sparda had felt they made for better cooks since neither spawns enjoyed their chatty nature and thus never put them to use in combat. The honoured guest poked a finger in his ear and circled blasé.

"Shut-up and make it already", irked, smearing his finger clean on the white spotless cotton, damaging it, simpering positively.

"Yes Master Dante", two voices submitting in unity and getting to work. Sourdough wood-oven pizza was well under way in fated muteness.

Hands behind his head Dante boosted his feet on the table. Extremely bad manners making him feel unpardonably good. Why was it that everything that was deliberated to be wrong felt so damn right? It could be his character was more on the full-devil dimensions. Outlining his throbbing forearms, recoiling as the foreign prickles cased his milky flesh. How the fuck was he going to eradicate these inscriptions, reviewing the simple timetable to outlook tomorrow's torture season with the arrogant bastard that was set to shamble his life, still settled unclothed as a mark of his rebelliousness or technically indolence. Every day was exactly the same. 6: 00a.m, start in the Dojo for a three hour pummelling session masquerading as 'strengthening exercise' then humanely breakfast. After which point there was a three hour library induction followed by what was termed "anonymous tasks around the house", shivering at the possible activities that could be included here.

Dante groaned he wasn't used to following instructions and guidelines for it had never been a part of his genetic make-up, disaster-prone from the start. This would be an uphill struggle with his disruptive and disorganised self. When did his life take such a horrible, horrible, turn? Contemplating why he was so worried to abide but surely there was good reason to stress in view of his tyrannical tormentor who was likely just getting started. Who knew what else that sub-zero zombie of a brother had planned for him, diverted? What day was it today, forehead furrowed when he remembered, "shit?!"

Dante burst into his room to get changed and fast. Forgetting all about the sequence of the last hour like it was a waking dream. There was no way in hell he was going to miss out on seeing his much-loved band playing exclusively tonight as a part of their World Tour. They had luckily secured a ticket for the sold out venue and his only real friend was undoubtedly waiting in line, on his behalf. Rummaging through his titanic closet and taking out a cool white t-shirt, blue jeans and his modish biker jacket. Squirting some cologne and pinpointing his mobile which was buzzing on the floor under the piles of mounting clothing, responding.

"Am on my way so spare me the shitty talk", tugging on his black boots.

Alexander notified drearily, "don't be late jerk, the doors close at 8:00.p.m and there is no entry after that...not even for you".

Alex was stationary having stood in line for the past three hours before the doors even opened to secure their places in the front rows for frenzy and mosh pit exhilaration. Good mood progressively sinking having done all the hard work and freezing his butt off while the pampered prince was undoubtedly still sitting pretty in his castle. Four rich bitches were encircling him like vultures and definitely standing out of the mellow crowd. They were trying to befriend a gloomy recluse like him for they had ulterior motivations. Word had gotten around that Dante would be appearing and their chance to snag the most sought after bachelor was within sights.

Alexander was Dante's ill-starred, mismatched, best friend and he knew very well that these resourceful Mademoiselles hadn't quite figured out the fact that their whims were beyond their reach; they weren't the only ones missing out. Not only did he never get laid despite having a good physique, meticulously styled short dark hair, and striking blue eyes, inherited from his French father. Even if branded 'that tattoo guy' which was his part-time love and job, he was unconventionally handsome, yet no match for the rich stud that was Dante whose urban myths in bedding women were close to the Godly mark. Alex raised his phone when they tried to jump him to talk. Zipping up his hoodie, the rose tattoos enclosing his neckline were still noticeable, tugging his black lip rings.

"Just get here you dick", pent-up anger discharging. How they were friends was anyone's guess.

Dante soothed his frayed hair equalling his acidic mood, "I'll be there...you ass", cutting the call short.

Clearly their friendship was open and frank which is why it had undoubtedly sustained. He needed to get the hell out. The mansion was beginning to feel like jail and you can guess who the warden in charge was?

Agni and Rudra saw the vacant chair spinning before tumbling and turned to one another in shock for the above case scenario had played out in mere seconds.

Rudra remarked. "Did you see that brother? Master had forgotten to garb!"

Agni slid the pizza inside, "I did Brother. Master Does not like clothing since he was a babe?"

The two blades were nor the brightest of knifes. Equally quaffing as a severe voice interrupted their useless discussions.

"Did I give you approval to prepare…this food?"

Vergil hated pizza and this was not on the set menu. The scent of soppy cheese and tomatoes was utterly repellent. Fast food was the reason for the world's current deplorable state and destruction.

Agni and rudra bunched, "ma-ma-master Vergil it was the request of Master Dan..."

Vergil overlapped, he despised dealing with these equal imbeciles, "you will only prepare food and serve it when I ask you to", reviewing the cloth and napkins on the bejewelled table with his fingertips. "Change these sheets, their filthy" having spotted the odd smear.

"Ye-yes-yes right away", they droned.

Mato floated into the kitchen unlike the other devil arms she was given permission to move freely and without any limitations. Ensuring the highest rein and control compared to all other combat weapons. Belonging to Vergil had enormous rewards and she would never allow any other to get close to him. If Vergil was possessive, Mato was obsessive. She whispered in demonic dialect having pried on the one scheduling to escape. Eyes lidded in gladness. Never changing smile enthused as Vergil overheard. She took it upon herself to fuel his annoyance.

"He has already resisted you and has left, without your consent".

Vergil enquired evenly, "Cerberus?"

Mato struck her flattering tresses, "he allows free passage as you suspected".

Vergil extended his hand like a gentleman and Mato treaded forward submissively. Her cold fingers rose to grip his warm ones. Heat was a privilege she would never know for her true form was transcendent steel which could never be cased beneath human flesh, for she could never be a true mortal as was her unchangeable perimeter and tragedy. Losing breathes, head leaning back as she took her punishing form. The katana shone as Vergil removed her golden scabbard. Gliding the connecting doors to the gardens to trail and capture the bolting detainee. Dante had failed to understand the implications for defying him. The firmer the penalty, the less likely he would reprise the same errors. Vergil's severe tactics would always yield the same desirable outcomes. Playtime was over.

Dante was soaked as the sprinkling had decided to convert into a heavy monsoon. He had by now fixed Cerberus grub for his unbearable cravings which he was liable for powering. Surmounting the gates like he had countless times but on this preordained occasion something sharp and blue winged past his ear reminiscent of a blade. Stalling and looking over his shoulder to find Vergil founded on one of the uppermost columns connected to the chief doorways. Phantom swords were curved around his dark stern form, perilously pointing at him. He could see their sapphire brilliances and variations as the thunder hit igniting the night sky, prognostic of the countless problems ahead.

"Fuck me", the only verses suitable to summarise the daunting sight that was astoundingly his twin.

In his candid eagerness to attend the concert he had totally forgotten about the optimum, unwanted asshole, in his existence. Scurrying politely to the ground and releasing the bars to jump down. Tattoos or more approximately demonic restraints were blistering as Vergil chanted overhead to reaffirm ascendancy. Red devil acting in response, raising his arms the way captives would in a hostage situation, eyes enlarged as the thorny scales snaked his forearms all the way down to his elbows. Dante was vexed but tried to restrain his rage. He attuned his hair and moved closer to address the slight misunderstanding. Perchance, he should have told this asshole that he was leaving tonight. Yeah fucking right, he didn't owe Vergil shit but being fake might be more obliging then a full on clash with this overpowered, psychopathic, villain. Essentially he didn't want these barbed wires piercing any other part of his dazzling body and he couldn't afford to miss the gig, all very good reasons for behaving. Even for a miscreant devil like him, trying his hands at charisma.

"Look I…ah", nonchalantly kicks the gravel.

"I really got plans tonight so seeing as we don't have anything scheduled I thought it would be alright for me to go out. Unlike you I have a life and friends" grinning sweetly when a phantom sword swept passed his hair dividing it. Dante's hair thankfully revived.

"That was a real cheap shot", flippant. "Thought you fight with honour, bro?"

Vergil was soundless and inert. Observing him like a judging Archangel. A very suitable depiction for where he was currently erected, reacting slightly and crouching like a stalking feline.

"We have never truly fought?" Disclosing why they were having this rendezvous, "I wish to test your abilities".

Dante was too busy revising his treasured mops, "now you're just being cold…I don't want to fight you, you get it" cockily pointing his finger upwards in case he couldn't hear. "Training starts tomorrow right so what's the big deal if I have a little fun tonight". Shrugging the talk off like it was no big deal.

Being suave might be a better method but something about Vergil's presence rubbed him the wrong way. Even if the logical thing to do was be good he wanted to do the exact opposite just so he could piss the bastard off. They could never get along, neither friends, nor brothers, just two strangers that happen to be related. Turning away having offered a reasonable explanation and to remain unruffled when a phantom sword rocketed towards him. This time he caught its flight and rolled out of its route to prevent it getting lodged in his ass which was the envisioned spiteful location.

Vergil was clearly the more experienced fighter having given heart and soul to this venture. Each muscle in his body was worked to rupturing point. This fight if embarked upon would be one-sided and Dante wasn't stupid enough to go head-to-head. Dodging another by circumventing, a little slow, the vane slashed his denims. Dante didn't get a chance to criticise the damage as six soared out of thin air in the contour of an arrow, proclaiming war.

"Fuck you Vergil", he roared and flashed his middle finger.

There was only one thing left to do. Flee the freaking scene for his God damn life, teleporting the gates seeing him straight out of the posterns of hell and away from Satan who was spewing deadly swords. It was the spineless thing to do but what choice did he have, whizzing down the gravel pathway with his freedom in prospect. Glancing over his shoulder to ensure he wasn't being chased by the spectre swords, wheezing when he caught a flash of white gusting past him. A burst of whispers and he was sliding along the floor, the motion lifting his shirt and ripping his jeans on the rocks as he collided into a tree, halting his awkward and painful flight.

Dante coughed stunned, "what just...?" Baffled he couldn't feel his legs. Vergil had struck him with the sheath on the back of his knees to bring him down. The gust had been his brother's formidable speed and strength; the whispers were Mato's hums of reverence.

Vergil was standing over him, "get up" he demanded. Eyes fierce, a scowl embedded in his brow as if he was vastly fed up, "pathetic" under his breathe. "Is this all you have learned after our father has spent countless hours teaching you" dismayed, "you lack skill, coordination, and concentration...utterly inadequate".

Dante rose slowly into a sitting position, highly unresponsive to their short battle analysis, "y'know you really take this devil shit too seriously", pointing at his apparel, "and you're paying for these", deadly serious. This was one of his choice outfits which had been wrecked. Even his leather jacket was cut from the shoulders, blowing profanities and obscenities inside his head and thankfully not out loud.

Vergil gripped his top and upraised, "your skills are appalling and my time is precious" releasing and pacing backwards. "Summon Rebellion", sliding his fingers along Mato's steel, his blood waning as she devoured his essence. Mato drummed, parched for more, rising ravenous. A fight was impending and she was ready to assault.

Dante inspected his fading grazes, "to tell you the truth, I'm not in the mood" stubbornly refusing to conform.

Vergil carved the air in a fighting stance. The massive oak tree behind Dante was divided in half. It tumbled and fell over. The red devil was not overawed, "that's mom's favourite tree, and you're going to be in deep shit".

A fist struck him on his right cheek followed by a kick to the gut, the hilt of Yamato banging the back of his head, down and out, groaning when he felt Vergil's boot shove down on his spine, "ump". The slant of Yamato hovering too close to his eyes, the superior devil gazed out towards their home, deep in thought. Slanting his head, he sank the tip closer to Dante's bloated eye who begun to squirm and thrash under his overriding foot.

"Get off", he snarled, this power play was quickly getting out of hand. Dante knew Vergil was trying to scare him as a part of his strategies. To coerce him into a fight but he would never truly dare to hurt him, flaying to get up. "I told you I don't want to fig..."

That was when his senses tasted pain unlike any other. The lid of his eye was sliced downwards along with his cheek, skin splitting. Dante's flesh swelled in bite as it cured but the psychological sensation of that blade on his most sensitive skin was traumatising and cruel. Fingernails embedded in the gravel to stomach the pain and hold back a cry of torture since he was still locked in place by Vergil's humiliating ends. Everything had rocketed in mere seconds and Dante was shaken and astounded by Vergil's actions to notice the trivial fingers bent around the brutal katana. Rebellions infantile figure was bending over Dante defensively. Grit and determination impressed on his innocent face as he sheltered his master the only way he can, in his shabby form and with his bare hands. Dante hadn't beckoned Rebel who had reached him of his own accord. Their bond was strong.

"Puh-Puh-leave…leh-leh-hem goes" the child stumbled under the fierce scrutiny of the one wielding the merciless blade that was Mato. She was accomplished and would hack anything down without penitence or remorse. When exerted by Vergil the blade distributed vengeance. It wouldn't matter who was on the receiving end of her cuts.

Vergil reduced the pressure over Dante's back and detracted his blade. Rebel's digits were sliced deeply, hands enfolding together. The wound would take time to heal since Rebel lacked strength and fortitude. Vergil sank to examine his clasped hands and Dante's eyelid with increasing resentment. Mouths tightened as the other sprites floated into observe the uproar, whispering and bewitching. Their forms were all female of the rarest beauty, hair green, skins and gazes fluorescent autumns, white dresses soaring above the ground as they reviewed the damage to their precious children. The caretakers of these gardens were watching the scene with a pitiful look. Even those serving inside the house gazed through the windows, including Agni and Rudra. Dante gazed outwards still lying on his back utterly degraded. Face caked in mud and gravel, fists clenched, eye restored but the cut had run much, much, deeper. Vergil had set off something ugly within, an emotion he could give no name for, just a cold pit of hate that had been seeded.

Vergil swiped Mato's flat service over his forearm to clean Dante's blood off her steel which she had plainly rejected. It wasn't good enough to sip. Vergil was not happy with her misconduct. This was the first instance Mato had overlooked his commanding fingers and inflicted a cut he had never sanctioned. It was unlike his vane and he couldn't pardon her for it was no error. Mato was incapable of slip. Their relationship no matter how tranquil it may be was still that of a master and slave. These roles could never be equated, for the devil pyramid was unshifting and unalterable. Light and dark were extant as separate entities. As were night and day. The Sun could never catch up to the Moon for some things were impeccably designed to run their passage without revisions and shifts. The cool twin articulated.

"Restore the gardens" the sprites bowed dutifully to work their magic.

Rebel flinched when he felt Vergil touching his palms, eyes softening, "wrap them in Ifrit. The gloves are located inside my chamber under the bed. You have my permission to enter my room as you please".

Rebel whispered bit by bit, "you are not ang-ie?" The cool twin's fingers were unbearably warm. Rebel hadn't felt anything like them, timorous and introverted by their grazes.

Vergil shepherded, "I task you to guarantee that he is ensuing my supervision. Tomorrow you will join him for training at 6 a.m, in the Dojo, and there on. Make sure he isn't late".

Vergil elevated not even bothering to give Dante a second glance that lay prostrate on the bottoms, hair covering his heated facial expression.

Rebel didn't release his tiny hold over Vergil's fingers; "ta-taank-yu" stuttering, dark hair covering his jaded eyes, the beauty marks below his eyelids had protracted downhill having inexplicably increased in size.

Vergil's hands slipped away but floated over his head slightly, "Ifrit" he retold casually, heading to discipline the other pooch. Rebel patted his dark hair where Vergil had impressed.

Mato chanted his name in compunction, "Vergil" she had lost her restraint for Dante had had dared to raise his voice to her owner several times during their altercation, misplacing irritability. She had made the detrimental scratch on her own accord.

Vergil opposed severely, "know your place Yamato. You are not above the others", cautionary, quieting her remorseful entreaties with the devastating insight. She was still just a devil arm that Vergil favoured, nothing more, nothing less.

Cerberus bristles spiked wisely knowing who was heading his way, yelping and querulous in fear of sentence, whining and whimpering shackled to the arcs. There was no escape. Regardless of the powers to replicate the size of the mansion his sorry form dwindled into that of a puppy out of extreme anxiety that the one impending would display clemency. It was wishful thinking. Vergil's bad mood was not to be taken casually. His approaching shadow left the pup crawling backwards.

Rebel moved closer to Dante, juddering fingers raised the snowy threads away from his master's eyes that hit his hand and lifted. He was enormously angry. This foreign expression was one he had never beheld on Dante's face who observed Vergil vanishing into the dimness with unfriendly judgments. Head to toe inundated and dirtied, slowly raising his battered body, making his way towards the entrance as the fairies viewed on kindly. Fashionable boots covered in muck which left deliberate paths across the snowy marble, onto the carpeting as he shed his ruined clothes in the roomy antechambers on the way to the security of his room, gazing at his grimy reflection in the embellishing mirrors to assess the injury. He had Vergil's footprint still stamped on his spine along with the bruising on his legs where Mato had struck, amused as the barbed wire of magic cuffing his wrists pumped supplementary pain having grown in mass and span.

Dante smiled and stepped into the luxurious overlaid shower made for a rajah, shifting and circling as the warm water sprinkled over his perfect body, steaming, unstiffening his wounds but not his disposition, fingernails crushing the tiled walls which crumpled where they lay, the crack spiralling upwards and onto the ceiling where powder extricated and collapsed. No one in his entire life had hurt him this deeply and to think it would be at the hands of someone so...enraged. Vergil would pay…dearly. Dante wouldn't stop until he had disgraced Vergil likewise. A thump and he robed not bothering to dry his saturated casing in the connecting traditional sauna. Rebel had shadowed his chaotic tracks scrubbing the exteriors clean and bringing his omitted garments waiting for the door to open. A soft knock again and Dante unlocked the doors.

Rebel was dripping wet, nose reddish, "I bing you".

Dante banged the door shut. The last thing he wanted to deal with was this infuriating little shit. He could smell the freshly baked pizza but he had no appetite, wanting to be left the fuck alone. Discovering the piece of paper to learn by heart the schedule for the next two weeks and crumpling. He would need to settle the scores before his parents came back. Dante set his alarm for 6 a.m., sliding into bed naked, vowing.

"You want a fight...I'll give you a God damn fight".

The howls of Cerebrus getting his ass whooped could be heard below. But all he could touch was the stinging mark on his cheek and eye. The only way to regain freedom was to deal with the brute that had him on a short leash. Now it was personal and he wouldn't stop until Vergil handled the same humiliation. A fire within for revenge was struck and lit in one who had never held any feeling of bitterness, until now.

Rebel thumped the doors still waiting to be permitted inside the room. The child would have left but was desperately worried for the one inside. Dante slouched over and could see the unasked for shadow, covering his face with the bed sheets to fall asleep. Rebel hunkered down and pushed the platter of nourishment to one side. His hands were still cutting and he couldn't afford to be feeble for tomorrow's combat assembly. Rescinding Vergil's orders to enter his room and find Ifrit but he couldn't leave this area until Dante fell asleep. By the time he did it was almost 3:00 a.m.

The knife-edge impressed the doors and coasted through the walls stopping outside Vergil's room which was protected by a seal. Appropriately scared to bother the one sleeping inside but the fledging knew the invitation had been a command which he must follow. Rebel passed inside timorously to find Vergil slumbering serenely. This was his first viewing of the spotless and methodical room. Careful not to touch anything with his grubby hands he sunk beneath the bed and found Ifrit having a lie-down inside a golden vault. The unique gloves were Vergil's desired hand-to-hand combat armament.

Rebel prodded, "Ifi-it".

The gloves encroached in fire with the face of a lion yawned, eyes blinking bloodshot, "Rebellion" in silent demonic dialect as to not wake their young master. Rebel raised his hands to show Ifrit. The gloves swallowed his hands to cure the cruel slashes.

"He…he is sad…ha-hates ma-ma-me" losing hope.

Rebel knew all too well that Dante didn't like him and neither was he eligible to remain by his side but the tiny devil arm was determined to become the strongest he could be so that he too could defend and guard his master. They all knew Sparda had made enduring opponents by defending the human realm from the prince of darkness and hence had been branded a traitor, defector and a renegade. This huge divide for those that had joined Sparda's side and those that detested him was unfluctuating. The dangers and jeopardies were all too real for their lovely household and this conflict and threat was deep-rooted and everlasting, if only Dante knew the sombre reasoning behind the tough teachings. To ensure his sons reached their full powers to match anything that came out of the Hell Gates.

Ifrit instructed the inexperienced arm knowing who had made these scuffmarks, "stay away…" silenced, the conflagrations becoming extinct as the gloves floated back into their casing, entombed. The devil arm had been summoned to sleep by an enchantment rung, including the fetching one in subterranean inertia. Vergil wasn't the only one superbly erudite. For the one who always stalked his survival was taking it upon her to edify knowledge which was supremacy unlike any other, to undertake her singular end. To obtain the one she loved and oh how she loved him.

Rebel saw the long legs of Mato as they emerged in her marvellous form. The only alteration, he could see her flesh. Yamato was not garbed. Rebel shrank to remain invisible as she drifted upwards, onto the bed, and out of his view. Holding his breathes. He didn't want to get into trouble, tailing his form, one with the blackness to exit when he received Vergil's pained and besieged breathes, stumbling before the dividers, a voice telling he shouldn't turn to see what Mato was exploiting but these erratic breathes were upsetting. Mato was doing the inconceivable. She was hurting Vergil and he could feel it.

Rebel shook and skewed to watch the troubling act. Mato was elevated above Vergil as he slept unwary on his back, arms stressed on each side. Her hands were holding his pained facial expression in an iron gridlock, tresses fluctuating as if she was floating in water not air, sucking and draining his essence via a toxic kiss, stealing his unreachable spirit. Rebel roofed his mouth before he could let out a sob of terror. Vergil's chest was heartrending, rapidly overexerted, face and lips distressingly blue as she released her hold above his mouths permitting him to breathe, settling down on his hips, with a leg on each side. Yamato's blood tears streamed out of her eyes and down the curves of her chest, onto her lean stomach. The only way she could truly be a part of him was without his consensus.

"Rebel", she whispered prettily, head tilted back, eyes closed, lashes painted red.

Rebel couldn't run glued to the same spot "Ma-ma-a-to" he whimpered not sure how to answer one so beautiful and absolute.

Mato raised her attractive arms to see her flesh palpitating. Vergil's stolen warmth was running through her body but this was an ephemeral moment, for she could never permanently make it her own. She had waited a long time for an opening and now that Sparda was absent it was her only gamble to see if this could work. Love was unsighted and punishing, it had hurt her to hurt him but now that the rapier had tasted Vergil's blood and spirit there was no returning. Mato had forsaken her limitations and confines to attain what was impossible. Yamato was possessing Vergil's soul for he was still half-mortal, his human side was his ultimate weakness.

Whether this would work and what the outcome would be was unverified, even to her. For no other devil had been able to accomplish the unusual task of successfully mating with a human, making the two of them the rarest of all anomalies. All she desired was to be more than just a devil arm that could be interchanged for an enhanced one. Vergil's words had expurgated Mato's very existence. That she was nothing more than a privileged blade. His benevolence, perseverance, and dedication for her were that of a tool. Yet Vergil had become her reason for living, breathing, and existing. A ventilated catalyst and the trigger was the soul of the man trapped beneath her and she wouldn't stop until she had her fill of him.

Mato kind-heartedly rose away from his inviting figure. Even if he slept for an epoch she would never get tired of watching him sleep, never to leave his side, floating through the air to loom in front of the pitiable Rebel who had simply shown up at the wrong place and at the wrong time. Even though she was unrobed her presentation was distinguished, principled, and moral. Hair cascading to conceal her fine breasts, fringes covering her eyes as the blood tears seeped back into her unbroken skin, perpetual slanting smile and divine eyes indulgent with sin.

"Do you fear me little one?"

Rebel sniffled, eyes straying to Vergil whose body was trying to regain control and senses to breathe normally. To the untutored eye he seemed perfectly fine but Rebel could see a tint of darker circles beneath his salient eyes where his life force had been taken. What Mato was treading was a brittle line between euphoria and madness. Vergil's life-force was balancing between the two.

Mato tilted his chin away from the one he was regarding for she would never permit another to gaze upon her master for more than few limited flashes, "answer", she entreated, leaning closer towards the recoiling edge that was once upon a time her proposed antagonist. Oh how ruthlessly he had fallen behind only to become an ineffectual child nearing its contracted culmination. The weak shall never inherit the earth for power was true might. As taught by her master there was no place for a stumbling weapon that couldn't even fulfil its role to uphold and defend this precious household.

Rebel whispered, "is, con-con-sent I go" trying to flee from her affectionate grip.

Mato's smile sweetened, "out of everyone who could have seen me...it had to be you, aren't I privileged and prosperous Rebel". The beautiful katana cut using her words, "you…who are so utterly unusable…should just evaporate than live so dejectedly…for he will never like you, neither wants you and he certainly does not in the least care for you and yet you chase him relentless. Tell me how many years have passed?"

Rebel's eyes enlarged in acceptance of her opinions, "I po-tect…im…I po-po-tect" unwavering in his piety and consecrations. Dante was Rebel's all.

Mato lifted his hands gently which had healed due to Vergil's intervention wondering why he was so sympathetic towards one unfit of his generous concerns, frightfully envious, "come", she pulled him through the dividing wall towards Dante's impending arcades. Rebel followed submissively he treasured Mato more than any other arm and looked up to her the most. His judgements were innocent like his mind. Yamato's characteristic high collared tunic wrapped her nakedness. The perceptible variation was the colour which was a spectacular rubicund and black, the long slits revealing her stately legs. The effect was wholly overwhelming and seductive for what she had strategized. Mato knocked for admission as was expected of her. Rebel was ogling her unable to keep up with her premeditated schemes.

Dante had fallen asleep when he heard the blow, growling and rolling over when the 'thing' thumped the door again, "little", puffing. Until that vexation got more mistreatment it wouldn't go away. It had become like a homeless cat that was tailing after him and he loathed furry felines, oddly remembering Vergil, eyes thinning. Dante strutted out of bed and opened the door to find his dreams had come true. Mato looked good enough to eat and hell he didn't even know if you could make out with a demonic weapon but damn his indomitable groin had no objections and neither any ethics, leaning into the doorway, getting a very good look at her, standing tall and stark-naked. Detecting her pants were missing below the lengthy tunic, getting a nice look at her hips where the slit started. He could think what he wanted but Yamato was spectacular, unquestionably a fan of the womanlike form. Biting his thumb in a yearning sigh. 

"Think you wondered into the wrong room babe" playful.

In the past Mato had made her feelings verbally and physically clear. Most days when he tried to flirt with her on the odd chances she was alone she would either vacate the premises or dodge him altogether like the plague. That was when he noted she wasn't unaccompanied, fantasy in ruins. The little stray was with her. Dante rolled his eyes as the child smiled indecisively. The sight of his owner after what he had just witnessed was reassuring. Racing towards Dante's legs and clinging tightly making him baulk, not forgetting the weapons were ice cold razors, contorting.

"What the", pushing him off bumpily, "let go, my freaking legs gone numb".

Rebel prevented a sob, releasing Dante's leg but sticking close to him, "I po-po" he got stuck.

Dante rubbed his cool skin. Reality was fucking harsh. Making out with a weapon would be painful like a cold shower in winter and no one could stomach such a horrifying feat, groin visibly misplacing eagerness and any enduring enthusiasm. Mato pressed into his body as if to contradict his conclusions, her warmth sending a tremor down to his feet, she was as lanky as him and he could see her magnetic green eyes behind the white fringe, her familiar scent stilling him, he inhaled and snuffled upwards, nose brushing her slender neck in weird ecstasy. Where had he textured this amazing cologne? The scent of all four oceans fusing with the waves and sand, this odour was anywhere, everywhere, and nowhere, searching desperately for a specific haunt in his infancy where it was mysteriously shrouded. The more he hunted the answer the more his memories runaway. Mato touched his eye where she had struck. 

"What he did to you today…was severe. We came to see how you were handling…the indignity". 

She was inciting him like a syrupy dagger. Manipulating Dante would be easy for he was just as uncomplicated as the one who was proving to be a threat to her plans, smiling when she saw a glimmer of ire in the good-natured azures, the grin fading from Dante's jaw that doubled his arms.

"Seeing as you were the one who cut me am kind of surprised to hear that" suspicious, why had Yamato bothered coming to him was anyone's guesstimate but he was getting the feeling that she was here to rub salt on his wounds which after a nap had been totally forgotten.

Mato rubbed his cheek sympathetically, "this is just the beginning by the time my master is through with you, you won't be able to recognise yourself…abject". Slanting her head, "I can help you…" something in her voice was stirring Dante's need to listen and pay close attention, as was her power to sway and influence to her hearts content.

Rebel felt terror. He didn't want Mato to do what she had done to Vergil. Poking his master's leg to get his attention urgently, "n-no, no" quietly. "Puh-leave...be I..." stumbling and making no sense in trauma.

Dante was shocked even the little shit was giving him orders insulted. "Hey, brat, didn't anyone tell you when two adults talk its rude to interrupt", humming with interest, "what kind of help are we talking about babe?"

The tiny blade started to cry, squatting and covering his ears gazing up at Dante in anguish who wasn't paying any attention.

Mato reverberated, brushing his ear with her puffy lips, "Sparda forced this task on my Master for the sake of your blade...who is nearing his end. Simply put it to everlasting sleep and you are free to go back to your daily routine for he will have no reason to train you", lips rubbing Dante's cheek. "You would be free to indulge".

Dante had handled plenty of women to know there was a hidden catch, curious, "unlike him I don't meddle in voodoo and am a little sceptical babe at why you are being so generous".

Mato gazed down at Rebel and smiled angelically, "tell this one you do not want him and he will take his blade form...for good" tantalising by stroking Dante's messy mane. "As for me I wish for my master's routine to be unaltered. Without you", she didn't want any disturbances at night. The only time she could work her charms and drain Vergil.

Dante's grin faded. Mato was a real bitch and just wanted him out of the way, not that he minded, reviewing the offer when an ingenious plan came to him. The blade was the closest to Vergil and he still wanted his revenge the only way he knew how. By defiling that bastard's haughty reputation and using it as probable blackmail for life. All he had to do was use Mato to slip some mind altering drugs into his tea and then? Pacing back and forth speedily, and then...it clicked, slapping his fist into his hand. He would call the fattest and ugliest hooker to take his virgin ass to kingdom come. Oh he knew Vergil was uncorrupted for Sparda had implanted the act of being righteous into his older brother all too well. Either that or that arrogant elitist was impotent. What did it matter for drugs were not so discriminating?

Evil smirk sprouting as he pictured Vergil lifeless on a bed as an old ugly hag molested him, while he recorded the grotesque entertainment or simply took a few incriminating photos for extortion purpose. Vergil would pay heavily for messing with him, picturing him in a maids outfit serving him food as he dined with wine and pizza. That fucker had it coming and he would show no remorse. He would have to make a to-do list so he wouldn't forget his awesome revenge plan, totally animated and rested. He was ready to do what it takes. The upper hand was his and all he had to do was sacrifice this crummy brat. The bad outweighed the good, scales tipping dangerously in Mato's favour. Mind made up swiftly. The thought of blackmailing Vergil had swept away any lingering doubts and ethical rules of conduct by the rash and risky Son of Sparda.

Dante curled his arms around Matos thin waist, "I'll do it...only if you" whispering mischievously into her ear his true plans.

Yamato's smile dwindled dangerously. She would never permit another injuring Vergil's body without hacking their head off their shoulders first, guiding her wrath for even suggesting such treachery. For now she would have to go along with Dante's plan just to take Rebel out of the equation. But who would end up drinking the intended cocktail would most definitely not be Vergil. She would make sure of it.

"I consent", bowing sweetly and stepping away from Dante's hold whose hands were descending deviously lower.

Yamato didn't like another's hand over her body, detesting his warm touch with overpowering loathing. Dante was in too much of a good mood to notice her drifting away, rushing into his room and rummaging inside his drawers to take out the entire months weed he had congregated, rubbing his hands in glee as he handed the herb to Mato to manage.

"I want him to swallow all of this" chafing his chin. It was enough weed to send three elephants tripping. He didn't want to commit murder, that would be going too far and even he wasn't stupid enough to get hooked on the hard-core shit, fundamentally class C drugs was all he had to disable and counteract his enemy. The way a wild animal would have to be neutralised so to speak.

Mato inhaled the plant contained in the plastic, it reeked, "I will disguise it so he doesn't suspect", the pouch vanishing into her skin. "It shall be done during breakfast".

Dante was electrified, bragging "just so we're clear babe this stays between us".

They both gazed at the third wheel and Dante remembered he had to keep his end of the bargain, kind of feeling guilty when he saw the little guy sobbing blood tears. Brows wrinkled, he wasn't really sure what it meant by, 'eternal sleep' since Sparda had opted into one it couldn't be so bad…could it?

Mato convinced. "It is better for him to rest then keep being rejected by you" silver fingers grazing Dante's shoulder, "he doesn't deserve to live like a neglected dog".

Dante sighed and squatted. The summary of their forced relationship was spot-on. The brat had to go, "look kid, it's nothing personal and maybe you're just better off without m..."

Rebel clasped Dante's fingertips, "I...I po-po-tect ma-master" weeping.

Dante scratched his head, unmoved, wanting to get the pointless tragedy over with. It wouldn't hurt if he gave the weapon a break since he would never seriously use it. He had gotten pretty used to breaking hearts, worryingly desensitised. Countless girls were dealt in the same disconnected way. Dante wasn't inspired by their waterworks either, completely dubious why a person would give up their all just to make another happy. It was a similar scenario here.

Explaining it slowly, "see that's where your wrong...I can protect myself. I'll be fine so quit worrying about me and go to...sleep" decided.

"I really don't need you" being frank.

Rebellion withdrew his fingers from Dante's, lying down on the ground, curling up in a foetal position to slumber but this time he wouldn't wake. Taking one last look at the one he loved. Closing his eyes to Dante's face the little blade gave up its fight to submit to his master's will. The skulls forming in circles over Rebel's face, the steel entombing his petite form as it resumed its blade form for perpetuity.

Dante picked up the thick lifeless knife-edge, inquisitive, "is that it?"

Mato closed her eyes, the blade was silent. It had worked, "he rests peacefully" pleased. Vergil's concentrations will be focused on her having gotten rid of the root of the problem.

Dante lifted, "don't forget your side of the deal babe. I want it done today".

He couldn't wait to gain the upper hand and would even force Vergil to use his dark powers to embed those horrible thorns on his own ass so he would never be able to sit down to take a shit without crying out in pain. Grinning wildly, he couldn't believe his good luck. Mato's outfit was altering to the traditional gold and black, casing her legs to hide her feminine beauty. Vergil would be waking and she couldn't wait to receive him.

"It shall be done" bowing majestically and extending both hands the way a dancer would to take her leave, her tall figure moving through the hallways.

Dante tested the empty blade, swinging it behind his shoulder, "jackpot" self-confident footsteps stamped with signature egotism as he made his way into the Dojo whistling a sweet tune of conquest.


	3. Evolution

Vergil roused at the crack of dawn. The first surfs of the sun cascaded over his face yet he felt incongruously tired, shifting onto his back, rubbing his chest. A dull aching pain constricting as he upraised his worn-out body, coughing mildly. Had he caught a virus? Impossible their demonic blood kept most pestering illnesses at bay but being half-mortal left they open to the rare bouts. Sliding his legs gradually to the tips of his lavish rug, the attractive devil robed his nimble frame with the waiting gown placed neatly on the mahogany chair. His vintage writing desk was shipped from the Far East, his preferred fixtures.

Coughing and covering his mouth as he checked the time on the Grande clock located on the furthest centre of his imperial room, deciding to bathe quickly in the limitations of his chamber to save time. He would have a full day dealing with the boisterous mongrel that was substantiating to be a greater pest then he initially imagined. He hadn't even had any time to dwell the cellars. Meeting Ebony and Ivory would have to be postponed until Dante was used to the routine and he wouldn't have to watch over him. Shower done Vergil headed out of his room to find Mato in the offing. She stooped courteously, sparkling. Voice subdued as she stood a few inches away.

"He waits in the Dojo. Will you…need me?"

Vergil was absolute, "he isn't ready to clash with you. You will be his final test Yamato".

Mato ruminated, "I will arrange for your meal", eyes loving, heart at a rate of knots.

Vergil had become a part of her last night. Hooked on his core, and still recuperating from his intoxicating effects. Being around him was becoming chancy, exercising restraint, reminding nightfall was inevitable. Mato knew Dante would never reach the platform where they would clash. He was no match for her master, tickled, more importantly, he had no edge. The brew he had given to her would be far more effective when she was done with it, to impart a lesson in dread. It was time to formulate a medicine for the ill-behaved Devil, vanishing.

Vergil enthused smoothly to get changed, opting for a blue combat vest and black pants. The indistinguishable uniforms were lined for each member according to their inclinations and palates, seating to pull on his black combat boots, gliding his head of hair. A few strands straying to his forehead as he entered the Dojo to find Dante taking a nap with his butt to the entrance. The rogue had managed to dress in traditional karate ensemble and for some peculiar reason had tied a black belt about his temple. Vergil gazed unenthusiastic, about to address the jester when he perceived Rebellion left comatose on the ground, blinking twice in doubt, mouth parting in burden.

"Rebel", he called to the weak razor-blade in a remarkably kind tenor.

Dante wakened and bowled over, his top shifting and revealing his torso since he hadn't tied it appropriately. "You're late", pointing at the clock which was striking 1 past 6, self-satisfied grin measured.

The appalling things he had premeditated for this jackass were all scheduled for today and he couldn't bloody wait. Lazily getting up and adjusting his cool head gear redoing Ryu. He couldn't find a red belt so took what was accessible. Dante was ready to a hadouken and K-the-fuck-O. Feeling like a total bad-ass as Vergil advanced towards him, with composure. The unknowing offender hadn't quite realised that Vergil was about to explode and was managing to lid his frightful anger.

Addressing "care to explain what...has happened to your…blade?" Voice misleadingly mild, hiding the tempest that was rampant within. A firestorm was being kept at bay for Vergil had to be sure what he was seeing was without a doubt factual.

Dante groped with his untidy costume which was all over the place, unmindful. "I found him like this". Not sure why he had just lied. What did it matter anyway? It's not like these blades had any real feelings. More importantly, Yamato still had a job to do, for him, and he didn't want her involvement known.

Vergil's elongated lashes sunk to appraise Rebel, "you found him...like this", dangerously low. The fatal eyes raised and locked onto Dante's, searing inflamed, "like this", a deadly whisper.

Dante winced seeing the wicked aura shifting around his scary half. The invocations and supplications for penalty had ensued wordlessly. He was neither mentally nor physically prepared for the horrific onslaught of chastisement that gripped his upper body. Gazing down at his detectable chest he observed the spiky designs sewing and stitching his shoulders and chest, surging down and over his sensitive nipples, trouncing his abs and rotating his umbilicus, uncertainly escalating over his hipbones towards his award-winning chattels where they froze menacingly making Dante sob his mother's name. The pattern slithered down his perspiring spine towards the tasty hollows of his lower back. Luckily he hadn't wet his pants at this brutal junction but the discomfort was far, far worse in these delicate places, stinging, and blistering, he didn't have time to whinge as Vergil pressed his cheeks together making Dante do a very nice fish out of water parody.

"What did you say to him", the cross-examination had begun with full-force.

Dante buckled, sensing the terrible tingling postponing along his plunging hip-lines. Any lower and he was done for. Breaching under agony and pleading guilty. "Sleep, I told the thing to sleep", conceding fault, pasty. Hugging his eyes shut as he felt the hooks puncturing all over.

Vergil unconfined and Dante raised his dripping top to journal his abdomen where the black thorns were unstably on plain exhibition. He wouldn't give in so easily. Dante had to endure this a.m. and after that this bitch would be on the unloading end. Chafing his face where Vergil's fingers were stamped, going into a spasm with rage.

Bad-tempered, "what does it matter anyway I don't need that blade to fight, am fine without it".

Vergil dropped to assess Rebellion, "when did this happen", indomitably.

Dante gave him an irksome look, "about two hours ago", cracking his jaw. Why was it this guy made him feel on edge, recalling last night's dealings? He wouldn't let Vergil disgrace him ever again and neither would he excuse.

"Guess we don't need to train now", heading out when the timber panel doors slid shut. Dante turned round exasperated, "look, I get why you were doing this but it's over. So just give it a rest already".

Vergil wasn't taking note, finding what he was looking for, a curious opening, the size of a pea, on the hilt of the impenetrable blade which hadn't quite closed. It wasn't too late to save Rebel.

Vergil grasped, "relinquish control over Rebellion".

Dante touched his boiling chest, "what the hell does that mean", wound up.

Vergil assisted much to his disliking, "as his master you haven't disowned him so he still belongs to you. Release him of his obligation and he will no longer follow you."

The red devil could care less. "I never wanted him in the first place, it's all yours, so keep the little shit for all I care". Vexed, how the fuck were these shitty doors tamper-proof?

Vergil's forehead arched in receiving, carving his palm, "wake Rebellion, you are not to sleep..." his first reigning as the blades new proprietor.

The tiny hole activated to shrivel. Vergil bent his finger inside with fierce determination. "Awaken", he bid, slicing his digit, quintessence dripping inside. The skulls throbbing red with life and respires as his blood seeped through the steel in gratitude and acknowledgment. Dante's preceding orders had been upturned but Rebel couldn't let go of the one he loved and wanted to make content, even if it meant his death.

"Rebel" Vergil dissuaded, cantos breezing through the steel referring a silent earthquake to stir from the shackles of torpor before it was too late. Dante wasn't the only one Rebel had to guard. The casket made of steel burying the fledgling edge begun to disintegrate, the steel splintering. Vergil shredded his wrist biting into it, the blood gushing over the skulls as they consumed his essence, unreeling. Awareness, supremacy, and compulsion, unlike any other were flooding the dehydrated rapier. The strength to break free was edifying. A thirst of a lifespan was being slaked even-handedly. The blade alternated, flying into the air, tip perpendicular.

Dante had missed all the upheaval, kicking the doors to get out and giving up. Revolving as the covering shattered in an arresting light. Rebel touched the floor in his humanoid form. The young man's imposing chest panted, long legs quaking as he gulped for air on his hands and knees. Rebel lifted his head. A silver skull masking his jaw, face obscured by pitch black wavy hair dipping to his neckline, waves of oceanic blue interwoven. The singular beauty spots were augmented and spotted along the lower lids encompassing his fascinating eyes like black kohl making the striking green emeralds stand out even more. Rebel was stripped as his eyes met the one standing in his line of radar, his previous master, the one who had rejected and forsaken him.

Dante scrutinized his former blades sudden advancement with inappropriate hilarity. "Well would you look at that" smiling. "Looks like you finally grew up…brat", aloof. Not in the least bit regretful. The last thing he wanted was to own a gigantic version of the annoying thing he wanted to be rid of. It wasn't even cute anymore and so he couldn't even feel sorry for it, challenging the exits again.

Rebel fluttered his lids, lethargically gazing to his right as Vergil perceived more dexterously, "Rebel", he called touching the skull mask which shattered. The hostile look was a part of the rapiers formidable attire to instil fear in the hearts of his master's opponents. Rebel breathed air. The rounded face was moulded to suit the youth in the thresholds of adolescence. The blade was viewing his physique in a daze having shot to adulthood in mere minutes. Unlike Mato Rebels skin was naturally tinted auburn, he didn't recognise himself. That was the strength of the essence that had remained missing from his vitalities. Memories fogged and clattered as he gaped vacant and hollow, shivering from his tribulations.

Vergil tilted his chin upwards to check, "you do not remember".

Rebel parted his mouth but no sound was emanated. Hands diffidently gripping Vergil's familiar hands and delineating his warm fingers the way he did as a child. This revolution had been much too fast and Rebel was stranded in the middle of nowhere, in ruins, completely misplaced.

Vergil stroked his head gently, "it will take time to recuperate."

"I will instil…in you", quietly encouraging.

Rebel tried to stand but had no strength in his limbs, shaking. If he stood he would be taller than Mato.

Vergil disallowed, "rest", he ordained knowing how close the spirit had come to its premature end. Asking a blade to sleep and it choosing to do so of its own accord were two very different things, fuming at the careless attitude of the one witnessing the knife-edges struggle disinterestedly. Dante truly was incompetent of owing anything, counting pets, which had endured the same horrifying fate. Be they goldfish, hamsters, birds, and even rabbits. Eva had stopped jeopardizing any future deaths by simply saying no to her difficult son's forthcoming needs for a family pet. The only thing distantly approaching a pet was Cerberus and even he was being poisoned by Dante with the barred human food, the motivation for why Vergil had to intervene so harshly.

Rebel mouthed. Vergil dipped forward to overhear the movements of his lips amid his cheekbones, making him smile marginally. The rapier bent into his owner's dignified chest out of steep veneration. Troubled, that he would be pushed away but Vergil permitted the intimate altercation knowing full well this was ease Rebel had never known. The blade had only sought a place to belong and had never been wanted by anyone, until now. He was afraid of losing this, clasping Vergil's hand to sleep. This time it would be slumber and Rebel would be waking when Vergil saw fit, rotating his head to view the identical outsider standing at the doors, closing his eyes as warm fingers scraped his dark tresses.

"Sleep", Vergil retold and Rebel shut his cagey eyes, extensive black lashes closing to take on his blade form in one shaky breathe, the steel modelling against Vergil's chest who erected with the blade in hand.

Vergil versed, "training begins now" testing Rebel's durable friction.

Dante's smile sunk, "huh!?" The stupid sound an indication of things about to go horribly wrong, he hadn't planned Rebel waking up, in fact, he hadn't thought this far. Scheming wasn't in Dante's DNA who preferred to go with the flow approaches.

Vergil smiled making his heart stop, "are you ready... dearest brother?"

Dante hard-pressed into the exit, his tousled Ryu impersonation now observed suitable for Ken Master's, "no, not really", he confessed defeat before the whipping could begin.

Vergil came at him with a stinger scarcely missing his bowels. The blade wedged straight through the board. Dante was hanging upside down clinging to the wooden banister overhead, daring to jab his disrespectful tongue.

"Ya missed", infuriating.

Vergil clicked his fingers and Dante was encircled by 30 spectre swords, "so it seems".

Sneakily sliding the doors open and shut, as intended, casting a humble seal to lock the rascal inside. This seal wouldn't deactivate for another three hours, until breakfast. As was the inhuman agility session. Vergil listened into Dante's shrieks as a blade appeared to have found his flesh. Once one was jammed the others would skyrocket like killer bees having secured their target, on cue, hearing the subsequent shrieks and yelps of pain. The rapiers shattered to give their immobilised casualty another chance to start over as they renewed once again and thus the onerous test restarted.

Dante would be ready to spar with him once he could dodge each and every one. Vergil would keep increasing their number, with each passing day. He had no choice but to speed their training, especially now. Adopting two blades and mastering them by the same token had drawbacks and disadvantages. Stirring into his room to find the most precious item gifted to him by his father. The rarest of all devil stars used to enrich and cure, making it a supremely precious jewel, a Goldstar. Sparda had gifted him this element upon topping his last semester exams. Vergil signalled to his gliding storeroom to excerpt the mineral situated in the confines of a bejewelled box which he released. The fireball approximating the sun sparkled onto his palm, coughing as his chest shook. He was feeling sickness but this article was not envisioned for him.

Vergil cut the star with the slope of the vane which was devoured by its sparkling light. Biting into his wrist he completed the treatment by invigorating Rebel with his lifeblood. Rebellion was submersed in enraptured attention and care as was Vergil's nature. The blue devil enveloped the steel with scrupulous folds by means of his classy bed sheets. The chore was purposely intimate for his scent now suffused the fragmented steel to soothe and remind that he was present at all times, sliding the heavy sword into the ledge and closing his cabinet to do a round of the grounds. Their parents hadn't called and it was only a matter of time when they would be checking in. He had to make sure everything was in imperative order.

Dante pummelled his battered body onto the sliding doors for the hundredth time and by the grace of God he fell right through. For some unknown reasons these paper doors hadn't budged three hours ago, collapsing face first onto the soft rug. Dante kissed it thankfully. Arms, legs, and torso lodged with blades that fragmented and vanished. Sobbing, "Mom", he groaned, hurting all over, he couldn't move, even breathing hurt, hair up in every angle possible. Ribbon of defiance was currently wedged about his neckline, choking him. The garments frayed with perceptible patches. Dante's current look could only be described as that of mental patients.

Sniffing the air, "food", dragging his comatose corpse, "fooood" he was alive. Clutching a wall to standpoint, "breakfast", he remembered wiping his bloodied face and flattening. All this suffering would be coming to an end. The tides were about to change baby. Mato was still on his side and she had promised to deliver the goods, limping and laughing to amplify his unhinged look.

"No mercy", he grunted to himself, deciding on three ugly hookers instead of one. This morning he had searched ads on his mobile for the foulest prostitutes conceivable to man and saved their details. "Your life is over bro", Dante promised punching the walls as his cuts healed but not the sizzling marks made by Vergil on his flesh.


	4. The Highs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Dedicate this to you Tweese for all your hard work and beautiful drawings - A big thank you ;)*

The said antagonist was seated on the dining table as Dante walked in looking tremendously pleased, despite his disgraceful state. Rudra slipped a serviette onto Vergil's lap as the other sat down on the chair closest to him. Judging from his utterly hopeless state he hadn't fared very well on the first test, dissatisfied. Dante's head was swivelling side to side looking impatiently for Yamato whose lovely frame was hidden beside Agni who was running the nutriment planning's, relieved. Questioning whether he should tell her about Rebel? Was it really relevant though considering the brat looked out of it? He didn't want to do anything suspicious to foil their plans, trying to act regular.

Vergil expressed, "could you not have taken a shower first...you smell putrid".

Dante confronted, "I know you did something to the doors and like hell am gonna shower so you can rob me of food too?"

Snarling, "I don't think so".

Stomach echoing in agreement, he was fatally thirsty and had never known infinite hunger like this, watching the ongoing preparations. The herbal tea was farmed in their glorious backyards and expanded in the luminous teapot as the assortment of flowers brewed and swelled into shapes of spiritual lotus. How was Mato going to slip in the drugs? Shouldn't there be two pots? Feeling hot and flustered he distributed his face with a napkin and placed it on Vergil's side of the table that reread with repulsion. Rudra panicked and shuffled the dirty cloth away from his blazing sight. They were ordered not to talk this morning but the pressure inside the kitchen was beginning to feel stifling. The trait of one was OCD while the other was a far-reaching stasher.

Breakfast was laid out responsively. Rose petals sprinkled on the whites to decant scent and colour, as toast, hash browns, scrambled eggs, honey, marmalade, pastries, and a fresh fruit platter was arranged on silver salvers. Dante didn't wait lip-smacking he proceeded to munch right off the serving plates. Vergil watched the way one would a homeless person after they had received a meal which was the level of etiquette's Dante was presently demonstrating. This happened to be the only time they had sat close enough to observe one another.

Vergil watched Yamato bring in the pot of tea. There was delicacy in the way she transferred the warm liquid into the corpulent jade beakers. Mato enjoyed these simple moments where she could act as a human for the one she treasured, pouring an additional cup, much to Vergil's disclosure, for the crunching monster that was Dante whose eyes broadened in high spirits making Vergil very, very, guarded. His conduct thus far had been out of character for his brother never drank tea, preferring strawberry milkshakes or a grotesque concussion of sundaes flooded with cookies and peanut butter. Dante licked his fingers and held Mato's hand as she handed him the poisonous beaker. Her radiant smile heartrending his frisky eyes as they spoke in silent dialogue, smirk widening. This small cup was a token of triumph, independence, and settling of scores. Dante could drink to that.

"Thanks babe", he reverberated, sliding his fingers downwards to obtain the cup. Noticing her hands were ice cold.

Mato ameliorated Vergil's mug, "my pleasure", she ventilated, hair flowing over his shoulder. Yamato whispered into his ear, one hand rose over her lips so only her master would hear her invitation whose hands absorbed the lever for the fruit to garnish his empty plate, his spoor that of an eternal spring.

"You may", he acquiesced. "I would also like you to sleep until twelve noon. You haven't rested in over a week".

Mato shone, "thank you. I will repose once I am done", regarding the insolent simpleton.

The drugs had all been slipped inside the chalice that belonged to Dante and not their drinks. Every time he placed his lips on the rock, he would gasp the pollutants through his nose, mouth, eyes and skin as was her reinventions and auxiliary enhancements. Her master would never sip from the same cup, leaving no room for miscalculation. Mixing inside the liquid was far too risky. The best part was he would suffer the effects of the drugs and would ultimately enrage Vergil to the extent that he would give up his labours. Not that this would matter, now that Rebel was finished so would this insincere waste of her master's expensive time. Dante was nothing but an irritant and disruption she had no need for.

By twilight, the drug would circulate enough power to put him to sleep. Completely squandered and debilitated for the next three days. Out of action, and out of his mind, leaving her and Vergil only. Gazing upon her entirety and prostrating to leave his side in order to use the archives before they did. Mato had to find a way to quicken her plans, to find the essential equilibrium between draining and appetite. Her cravings had hastened riskily and she couldn't afford to take too much from one so costly. Love was a disease with no cure and she had been hit by an ailment that would be her undoing. Sleep would make the remaining hour's fly-past.

Vergil sliced the pineapple and took a refined bite. Dante was chomping loud enough to make him deaf. Food particles staining his rims due to his current pace in wolfing everything like it was a race between life and death. Dante licked his lips and outstretched his cup, azures naughtily obsessed over Vergil's teacup. Mato must have slipped the weed when she had spoken to Vergil, trusting her blindly. He hated green tea but was trying to lure the elder to take a sip.

"So...ah how long in the library?"

Vergil gnawed quietly and ignored him turning his cup intentionally making Dante's eyes amplify with expectations and obvious anticipation. Dante sipped the bland substance and gave his finest phony smile.

"Teas good" deviously draining the hot fluid and scorching his mouth and tongue.

Vergil understood Dante was up to something, drawing the edges of his cup, exceedingly sceptical, "you drink tea?"

The red devil boldly answered by refilling his cup and leaking it everywhere, lacking finesse.

"Sure do", merry.

Making the other give him a dead stare. "Your pants have come unfastened at the hips".

Dante ogled downwards. The black belt had indeed fallen on the floor and if he stood he would end up flashing everyone, not that it was anything new, tying the tatters rapidly as best as he could. When he looked up Vergil was punctiliously wiping the rims of his cup with his clean napkin. Dante's heart paced as he took a sip of the tea and alerted.

"You have an hour before literature studies".

Dante chuckled, "can't wait", puffing his crazy hair and leaning back on the chair to watch Vergil drink.

Little did they both know they had just shared the same cup of drugs?

Breakfast ended. Vergil was the first to leave to get the session started in the library. "You may talk" lecturing the other twins who burst forth with happiness, "thank you Master Vergil".

Dante belched deafeningly to shadow, smacking Rudra and Agni's backs. "Breakfast was good", he couldn't hold back his astonishingly good mood now that his tactics were well and truly under way.

"Thank you Master Dante", the identical replies of exhilaration and relief.

The tense atmosphere evaporated as they made their way collectively into the reading room where the chosen books were meticulously laid out for the badly behaved pupil.

Vergil particularized "you will study what I deem appropriate for you" beckoning to the unfilled chair.

Dante nodded sweetly and sat down in front of the text clicking his fingers, "no problem". Compliantly reviewing the literature as the book opened on its own accord and stopped on the essentials, the note pad and pen skimming towards his hands. Vergil adjusted the Victorian curtains and pinned them with the gold borders.

"I will test you with an assessment, if you fail to achieve at least 80% before we are done. There will be consequences".

The aberrant wobbled his pen, "I get it", like-minded.

The hell he would study for a shitty examination. Dante was just buying time to observe Vergil getting fucked. Any time now the drugs would be working their inspired effects. He had been made to scuttle the floors like a bug but now he would be flying straight to the top and crushing Vergil under his foot like a cockroach.

Vergil scowled, "what are you staring at...read…idiot" intimidating.

Dante tittered; "right, right" head down he started to recite.

The text had pictures which made it easier to distract his eyes. Scratching his chest forgetting the marks were there and burning his fingers. He put them in his mouth to lessen the pain. Vergil flew to the top of the staircases to catch up with his reading. The chosen text was on devil arms, quietness subsequent. The ticking of the Kensington grandfather clock as the pendulum swayed.

Dante's eyes twitched abruptly. The writing seemed characteristically richer but his mind couldn't keep up, enchanted by the sketches and illustrations of the horse and rider. The works of the philosopher Plato were about to be engrained inside Dante's head, a little too well. Plato's Chariot Allegory, explaining the view of the human soul was going to be infiltrated via a drug induced abstraction. The black stallion's eyes illuminated as it whinnied and puffed smoke out of his nostrils, violent. This was undoubtedly his libido, his body, all appetites that were utterly out of control and a dominating part of his personality. The white stallion came to life and clashed with the black raising his hoofs to accomplish the course of navigation as per the leadership of the charioteer. This white horse was his fighting spirit which was currently dead. The white mount signified the greater good, freedom, justice and morality. The black horse boxed, biting the white's neck for dominance and control, leaving it bloodied. Dante gawked at the charioteer who removed his helmet; it was him, meaning him, meaning I. Brain scrambled.

"Steer properly you ass" he stabbed at the figure accusingly who signified his mind.

Technically the mind should have full control over the quarrelling horses but it wasn't the case here. Reading to check his theory, he was spot on. Lifting his leg confrontationally the little he in a woman's miniskirt smirked, "look who's talking jerk".

The brutal clash of the mustangs continued "hang in there Snow" he cheered not even realising he was completely absorbed and disengaged from reality, having named his favoured horse that beheld a pretty unicorn.

Vergil eyed from above. Dante's bloated eyes and saliva was dribbling out of his mouth as he gaped stupidly at the book, "disgusting" about to leap down when he stared out of the window and into the gardens. The colours of the flowers and their growth were augmented by his demonic attributes. He could see each bud changing its stance and bearing towards the sun under an optical microscope. Receive the flights and echoes of the bees, birds, and butterflies as if it was a typhoon. Vergil dropped the book from his hand, incredulous, pressing up into the windows, seeing the world with a new set of eyes, enchanted. He unbolted the locks and flew over the divider and onto the open terrace. It wasn't enough...he had to get a better look, flying down, overawed. The fairies greeted him they were glimmering with love as they tended to their young with motherly care. Vergil was in heavenly bliss, losing himself.

Dante was crying as the black horse beat the crap out of the white who lay deceased.

"No" he yelped. "Why did Snow have to die?"

Devastated, sliding his hand over his chosen mustang that had died a hero's death.

"Snow" he mourned.

The charioteer inspected the slain stallion's carcass, "see, you're out of control", the tiny he summarised the moral of the fiction. That he was the cause of Snow's untimely demise.

Dante tried to squish the little villain but the complacent bastard was fast raising his skirt and flashing his behind to insult him. Shutting the book in fury, "bitch", he snapped. He gazed around befuddled...when he realised he was alone.

"Vergil!"

Upended, "hey, where are you?"

Staring at his barbs which were thrusting in and out of his skin he couldn't help but look closer, compelled by their mesmerizing outlines, gripping the table in pure fear and dread. These were not thorns, they…they were really cobras and other venomous snakes, skidding, slithering, rippling and curling. He had been poisoned by their fangs which were inserted deep inside his ripened flesh.

Wheezing, "what the…" frightened out of his mind.

"VEEEERRRRRRGILLL", he screamed, having a very bad trip which was just getting started.

Vergil was inspecting the overflowing fountains with a look of unreserved impressiveness when he heard a shout in the remoteness, deciding to probe when he picked up a scent in the air. Stomach howling, he hadn't adequately eaten anything and the aroma of this food was pulling him. Flying over the soaring hedgerow he dropped down to the quiet streets to locate this delicious nourishment when he was struck by a car and sent flying. Alex braked too late, wide-eyed and in shock. Unable to find the entering's this had been his billionth time circling the mansion having had no luck in contacting Dante who hadn't turned up at the gig and was abnormally unreachable.

Alex wholeheartedly refused to ever come down to see him near his castle and only came for the occasional drop-off's since D rarely used a ride. He had to make sure he wasn't deceased having missed out last night, weirdly worried over the unreliable shithead. Right now he was the one responsible for killing his best friend who had appeared out of thin air and lay dead on the road. Scampering out of his car and slowing to a stop before Dante's unmoving body.

"D", he whispered frantically, fumbling to make the 911 call when Vergil rose.

"I cannot feel my legs" questioning why. It was as if he had left his body and consciousness, viewing the scene in third person standpoints.

Alex braced him still clad in last night's black hood and denims, "man I thought you were fucking dead" frenzied.

Vergil shoved him off. The impact from the car had sent his hair tumbling, trying to slide it into position, "do not touch me", directing his mind to move his legs which wouldn't obey. Strangely ticklish near his knees wondering what could be wrong. He had never felt so disconnected from his body, lips straitened.

Alex stressed, "let's, let's get you to a hospital alright...I think you knocked your head" gently.

His friend was clearly in shock. He had read about these kinds of cases in the news. Reviewing Dante's weird getup and noticing there was no blood or cuts on his bare arms. Tugging his lip ring anxiously, what if he had suffered permanent brain damage?

"Fuck", he banged his fists to his head trying to help Vergil up who rebuffed his hands.

"Don't", the killer look penetrated as he managed to get to his feet unaided. Picking up the aroma and marching briskly while he had control and function over his body. It was like going in and out of consciousness but he was wide awake.

Alex tailed in his car along the pavement, "hey..., get in your not well, am fucking serious Dante" slipping the door open. He had read about articles where a crash victim walks away from an accident only to drop dead from brain swelling.

"Please just get in at least let me take you...man."

Vergil slipped inside, having trouble walking, "I will direct you". Peering at the rear view mirror, infuriated, "why is he here…" pointing at his reflection.

Alex gawked, "that's you man…all you" restraining from his usual sarcasm, due to his heightened stress levels.

Vergil pondered skimming his hair, "I see…so it is".

Alexander groaned "alright…the hospital…you'll be fine" about to faint himself.

This was bad Karma, he just knew it. Thinking they were going to the local hospital but the 30 minute drive had landed them on the gateways of a fast-food drive-in, completely baffled as his passenger sustained to smell the air gravely.

"This cannot be", solemn, why had he wanted to come to such a nauseating place with these filthy humans. On the other hand his stomach protested, like a never-ending nadir of starvation. He was wanting. The accumulation of cars behind them honked their displeasure at their indeterminacy.

Alex banged his head on the steering wheel, "D, what the fuck are we doing here" under his worried breathe.

Vergil commanded "proceed" having decided.

Alex raised his head about to detonate. Could it be this dick was perfectly alright and taking him for a ride? The odd thing was he was doing a damn good job of acting like a patient who had just awoken from a coma. Dante's present behaviour was so uncharacteristic he didn't know how to respond or what to think, the inexplicable reason for the bizarre goings-on. Something was way off here. Shifting gears they reached the menu, on brinks. Alex was nearing a heart attack wishing he had never taken a deviation this morning.

"Can I take your order" a bored overweight girl clad in pink uniform stated.

Alex checked his wallet, luckily he had some hard cash having been paid his meagre wages. It was still early but his cholesterol was down so decided to order a 'go fishing meal' and shake, miserably.

Vergil was scrutinising the menu as they waited for his final order, powerless to decide. The set of choices was extremely complicated, seconds ticking into minutes.

Alex blasted, "this bastard will have the same".

Vergil looked daggers. Alex met his glare, venting, "don't you dare give me that look, am getting late for work".

Moving on to pick up their meals in muteness which he snatched tossing the paper bags on Vergil's legs and taking the shakes in the carrier. Alex parked up in the connecting space and grumpily opened his meal to devour, turning up the song that had been playing non-stop after the concert. It had been a great gig but not the same without D who was opening his burger, unwillingly, to plan it the way a truth-seeker would a self-contradictory finding, gazing at the stereo. The sound, the beat, the voice had penetrated Vergil's membrane's, as if each instrument was playing inside his head.

"This song...who is it?"

Alex stopped mid-bite, "whaa?"

Dumbfounded, how could D not know this song? Recalling one particular conversation they had shared. Could it be? Reviewing the man seated beside him, one more time. Unlike them he didn't attend a fancy boarding school so could never have known about the other famous Sparda, he had met Dante at a friend's party. Did he ever mention having a twin? Maybe, deciding to ask the obvious.

"You're not Dante…are you?"

Vergil turned up the volume and decided to try a bite of the burger, delectable, "no", the simple reply. Taste glands annihilated as he bit into the cheap ingredients, misplacing control, manners, and all ethical pride. Drowning in a robust orgy of fast food he had never discerned, slurping the milkshake in orgasmic swallows. It was one of the most delicious meals he had ever had, winded, horrified by this shameless act. Vergil had crestfallen? Guilt flooding over as he gazed at his reflection yet couldn't find the forte to let go of the milkshake.

Alex burst out laughing, "fuck man, am so sorry, hitting you with the car and then. Am Dante's friend Alexander, Alex".

Vergil was relishing the greasy textures of the delicious fries, taking gentle bites, remembering his good manners, "Vergil", offering only his name to the human who appeared to be an acquaintance of his brother's.

Alex crumpled his box, "shit, the least I could do was buy you a meal", sucking the shake, eased, "you sure you alright you got slammed pretty hard".

Luckily his crappy car wasn't dented and it wasn't the best method of introduction to a family member even though D hardly ever talked about his family.

Vergil assured, "I feel..." fading and zoning out.

He could only concentrate on the hypnotic music and not the irrelevant dialogue as all his senses diverted to the beats and rhythms of all-encompassing melody. So this was the music that his brother liked, rock. The entire Universe was locked inside his head as he closed his eyes and listened in. The purpose of life was solved behind his closed eyelids as he was immersed in a connecting gold light, his soul disconnected from his body was merging with the original creation, spectacular. Vergil was getting a foretaste of his everlasting home as he cleansed uncovered in the enigmatic aura that was actuality.

Alex stopped chewing, "no way", lowering his head.

"Get down" he warned.

Why was all this shit going down today? Maybe he should never have left the house. Two gunmen had rushed out of their car parked right opposite theirs and were making their way towards the chubby waitress wearing balaclavas and handling shotguns. All hell was about to break loose. Alex peeked over the dashboard and they were gone.

"Ah?" He needed sleep, badly, and had to get to work in an hour. Being a part of the working class sure sucked ass.

Vergil was extracting the remainder of the nectar that was the strawberry milkshake and proceeded to clean the clutter from Alexander's car making him unwittingly laugh.

Vergil held the litter bag remembering he had to get back, having left without notice, "I must return".

Alex revved the car, "I'll drop you off".

Reversing and pulling out of the car park. Two unconscious bodies were sprawled on the cemented floor. Vergil had neutralised them upon seeing what they had intended to do. They wouldn't be gaining consciousness until the police arrived. The human eye wouldn't be able to keep up with the speeds he could regulate. The ride back was silent for he couldn't stop watching the travels, blowing puffs onto the window and staring intently. Everything, absolutely everything, was palpitating with new luminosities and insignias he had never known. He couldn't tell what had happened to him but before the effects could fade he wanted to be elsewhere.

Alex parked up where he had knocked Vergil scrubbing his hair with both hands, "tell him I dropped by and to call me". Knowing the bum was likely still asleep.

Vergil rose away from the car window, "why do you hide it?"

Alex shuffled, taken aback, "hide what?"

The blue devil translated in simple English, "God is above it all, the Arabic along your neck which you have tried to eradicate".

He stroked his flesh astounded, "you can read it" stunned, he had disguised it under the roses.

Alex hadn't even told Dante about his mom being from Iran, he had never known her. The tattoo was his first glimpse of the Islamic history he had left behind and grown entangled with, unsure how to tread the delicate subject.

"People aren't as open minded as you...not after the things that have gone down lately".

Vergil quantified, imparting awareness "mortals will judge regardless of the matter, they have done so for centuries. One must always be comfortable in their own skin to realise what they say bears no hold. For God is indeed…above it all" getting out of the car.

Alex got out hastily as Vergil stood near the massive hedge which was covering the entire state. "Mmm", not sure how to say goodbye, hands inside his jeans pockets. Vergil wasn't the only one high he had smoked enough pot before attending the concert which is why he hadn't been thinking straight but the serious talk made him a little clearheaded.

"D has my number so why don't we hang out sometime. You like the same band right I can see if they are scheduling new tour dates and…you seem to know about…that...I want to learn too" talking aberrant gibberish, frowning.

Vergil flew over the hedge without another word leaving him hanging.

Alex gaped perplexed, "ah?" Now he was seeing people take wing. Was he still burned-out from the concert, probably, it was the only rational explanation for the weird and random date they just had.

Gazing upwards, "date…when the heck did two men sitting in a parking lot considered a date?" Who knew Dante's brother was so…cool gliding into his car for a tad more regularity.

Deciding to send his friend another message, "you missed out on milkshake D and guess who I just bumped into?"

Dante squirmed away when he heard something buzzing close by. Wriggling into the corner of his room like a caterpillar. White bed sheets clinched. These potent drugs had made him paranoid beyond redemption and he had managed to stop ogling the serpents by covering his body from his sight. This room was all he could observe for the past hour and the world didn't exist outside this realm. In fact this was all there was. These strewn clothes, this dirty bed and, and, the door swung open. He cowered into the wall, heart pounding.

The latest obsessed thought was that he was going to lose his body to another entity. Having seen a bald midget with a lighter who was taunting him saying he would burn a hole in his sheet, an old woman resembling a witch eating the stomach of a sleeping man on his bed. Something black scuttling the ceilings, all body snatchers, misplacing rational consciousness which was floating right the fuck out of the roofs. Somehow he managed to shake it back and float back into his figure but…but it was open to attack from all these evil spirits which were looking to occupy his bodily flesh. Footfalls and he enclosed his head blending into the piles when he felt the bed sheet being sunk.

Vergil observed, "what are you doing, you idiot?"

Dante pointed urgently to his physical problem first, "there...look, there all over me, look...look" voice unstable and ending.

There was no serpent's, just stilled pricking ink. Moving his skin and nudging precariously but there was nothing there. He was sweating insufferably and hadn't been thinking straight, at all. What was going on? This wasn't like him...could it be Mato had tricked him into drinking the drugs? What else could it be? Was he going crazy? No, he was feeling fine, until breakfast, and presently on the doorways of being labelled a schizoid. The scent hit his respires and he inhaled deeply, calming...calming...calming, breathing in, breathing...out. Every command to his body was artificial, including this thought's, slowing down to reconsider. His mind was fuelling these deliriums, having never had a bad trip in his life he reminded it would be over soon. Vergil elevated to leave but Dante gripped his wrist with an iron clamp.

"Let go", Vergil cautioned. Failing to recall why he had come here, Alex's memo elapsed.

The big mutt stood up, "am not feeling well" the understatement of the day, still covering his frame with the bed sheets, including his head.

Vergil tried to shove him off but Dante held on with might, "let me stay with you for a bit" brazen.

He would rather stick with a familiar oppressor in his dwindling state until he got control. Plus if anything happened to him at least he wouldn't die alone. Alarmed and scared the fuck stiff when he saw his new roommates smiling and drifting closer to ambush him.

Vergil couldn't use the bluff to upsurge the enchantments for he was travailing equally. The intentions of increasing the size and range of these barbs to their neither regions was never going to transpire, going as far as removing them completely. They were becoming a nuisance and were rather painful. Could they be the side-effects of their current temperaments? What was his current temperament? He was stress-free, restful, and feeling incredibly reinvigorated, the reason to visit his veiled palace with his restructured sightedness, impulsive.

"I must go and see her. You are not welcome".

Walking out of the dismal room with the clinging dense child attached to his hips who was refusing to let him go, trying to thrust Dante off who held on for dear life.

Dante's head pivoted, "who Mato?"

He hadn't seen that temptress after she gave him the botched breakfast. Everything was scaring him and he really didn't want to bump into her. It was like having a new pair of 3-D glasses which provided a detailed vision of your worst nightmares. What Mato would look like through these he really didn't want to witness?

Vergil teleported straight out onto the grit hoping it would dislodge the primate who was now attached violently to his midriff. Long legs dragging as he clung with all his might. Not even caring that he had just lost his tattered pants and bed sheets along with any lingering dignity in the waves of rapid rise and falls. Butt naked and making a grotesque scene for the other sprites as Vergil heaved the additional body towards his private maze. Dante watched as the shrubbery rose with each step he took, he could hear it's whispering as if it was speaking, clasping harder making Vergil grunt in pain, skin bruising.

Vergil had gotten lost. Wondering where he took the wrong turn thanks to the one throttling his intestines. Shuffling around but the hedge closed their exit. The portal he was seeking was secreted here for a very good reason. Sparda didn't like him founding demonic gateways but this one was safe. He had cracked it at an early age. Unending energy unleashed as the hedgerow gushed in the air darkening their lanes. Dante squeezed having noticed the dimness.

Vergil halted. "Release me...and I will take you, with me".

Dante loosened only marginally, debating, "I swear if you trick me" regaining momentum. Maybe he had to just get out of that room and get some fresh air, feeling like his rude self. "I don't trust you".

Vergil's jaw clamped, "release me" eyes tapering.

Dante got to his feet and let go, little by little, "OK", bizarrely biddable, sticking close. This place was spine-chilling. When did they have a labyrinth maze? No one ever told him anything about it.

When he crooked Vergil was gone, "that...cheat", seething. "You're not getting away that easy", swearing and bolting.

Tracking the fragrance as GPS and running as hard as he could in its direction. Sliding and fastening right and then detouring left having found two dead ends simultaneously. Searching like a madman until he ran another corner and chanced upon Vergil's shrouded figure who was circling a purple gateway which had quite literally merged out of the hedges in a sphere-shaped rotational black hole. Vergil flew inside.

Dante halted to a stop before it, hand trying the black dimensional swirl which sucked him inside and sealed. He was falling down bottomless terrain, shutting his eyes. His body had been tumbling down figurative elevators all day and this was mind blowing in his bombed state having unluckily supped the most potent aspects of the cup before it was swapped, mourning his second-rate and hot-headed decision to follow this crazy bastard for no good reason. Starting to pray to the big guy above when he landed in a tangle of twigs, bushes, and broken branches. Leaves dislodged and drifting in their hundreds as he smacked the ground. Squeezing one eye open he gazed up at the beautiful blue sky, a lush green forest and mugginess he had never known greeted. It was 77 Fahrenheit, extremely wet, and he was perspiring from the tips of his nose. This was most definitely not their back garden and could only be described as a tropical rainforest?

"Huh?" Dante's disbelieve, maybe he was hallucinating, watching the flight of two red and blue parrots as they flew away from the hullabaloo of his thump.

Shutting his eyes, "it's not real, it's not real…it's not real" rapidly.

Opening, but the towering canopy of evergreen lush was unmoving, eyes shifting all over the various shaped and sized shrubs which were talking, breathing, and whispering, having broken a few of their branches the tree wept in grievance. To which the others calmed in murmurs, "propagate…propagate…propagate", they sung until the entire jungle hunkered reassurances. Tiny shoots wrapped Dante's toes, prickling his feet. He darted backwards to get away.

Stinging red ants were biting his bare bottoms having unluckily landed near their nest, jabbing like a blizzard of relentless attackers, all over, chanting in military unison with squeaking voices, "go away…go away".

The grumbling intruder whose shredded top was lost in the freefall sat dumbfounded. Unlike his earlier apparitions these bites, says, and muggy humidity was all too real and continued unalterable. Returning to normalcy was becoming a distant dream. Brain in shockwaves of hysteria as Dante ultimately crumpled and gave up trying to make sense of what was considered to be quite possibly the worst day of his entire life and it was about to get perilous for the fiery ants he was trying to flick away were nothing compared to the sound he heard emitting from one of the taller trees, head in the clouds.

"Run away, run away" the ants shrilled feeling sorry for him.

A deep throaty snarl followed by an intimidating growl. In his paranoid state of mind he had never heard such a fear-provoking rumble. Something large, something powerful and something very, very feline was ambushing him though the impenetrable bush. Even with his toothless demonic senses he could still feel the imminent threat and danger that was prowling like a stalking lion. But this was no lion. The animal silently circling was none other than the magnificent jaguar. The Queen of this Amazonian rainforest and she had her eyes set on the spluttering baby deer with bleached hair, her brilliant golden and black fleece, the unequivocal body, the jaws to crush a skull with a singular bite were all symbols of this serene wilderness.

A soft crunch of her paw and a flick of her short tail as she hopped down, ears infolded, reddish yellow eyes dynamic as she crouched closer to make her kill. Licking her chomps, stocky muscular body ready to pounce, prevailing jaw and impressive teeth bared. She crept out of the bush and Dante saw her in all her wild splendour, paled. This was her territory, having marked it energetically with her claws on the barks and sprayed urine for trail, as trained. Grunting and snarling, she doesn't speak any English.

Dante had never imagined that he would come face to face with a formidable beast that was presently looking at him like he was flavoursome chicken. In his last incoherent jumbled frame of mind and possible extinction, the tousled and scruffy Son of Sparda had forgotten all about his devil trigger, teleporting techniques, otherworldly powers, and anything else associated with gifted demonic blood. The drugs had rendered him high and dry and here sat a meagre human. Doing the only logical thing left to do, he screamed the name of the soul who was the source of his death, for ruining his life, for making sure his parents would never find his dead and eaten carcass, picturing Sparda and Eva performing his burial rights in a bodiless coffin.

"Veeeeeerrrrrgiiiiiiiillllllllll!?" his final and relatively bittersweet cry and the leopard tackled.


	5. The Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *As promised I dedicate naked Vergil sighting to Blue and myself and OK fine everyone else too*

Dante fastened his eyes and anticipated a lethal gnaw to his gullet and skull. Arms were raised to fend off his aggressor, lying flat on the foliage, pending ambush. Puffing and puffing he bent his arms over his cranium, waiting, waiting, and…waiting, as the fantasy battle with the beast was wrestled one-sidedly, recoiling and cringing when something furry brushed his nostrils making him sneeze loudly, accidentally opening his eyes to be solidified spent. The tail swished and struck his reddened cheeks, the hindmost of the fierce hunter indecently exposed as she clung inside the arms of the one he had summoned.

Vergil was instituted over him, grappling the rough animal as she licked, exceedingly excited. The jaguar rumbled and huffed as Vergil whispered her name. She scrubbed his face with hers and rasped in truncated snarls and catcalls, panting. Vergil lowered and unconstrained the big cat which advanced to brush and encircle him with her bulky frame, plopping down, paws and claws out to grip his forearm to play. Chomping and licking she grunted and rolled over. Her spine landing on Dante's shocked face. He hadn't quite gathered what was purely palpable. The she in questions was this golden panther. Vergil was not thrilled to find the additional interloper here of all places, the sound of hostility eminent.

"Why did you follow me..." irritated.

Dante tried to transfer away from the source of his uneasiness but he couldn't move, the plants humming drowning away. Vergil's power of speech glided into his somnolent cognizance, silencing everyone else. Clad in a pair of grey pyjamas, glaring downwards beneath his bed. The curve in his brow wasn't so prominent, their only seven. He had snuck into his brother's room without his permission. Dante was afraid of the dark and didn't like sleeping alone. Vergil put up with the nightly intrusions until...until he had confessed his love? What…was he thinking again? Oh, yeah, there just kids, and when you're a child your honest right? Funny he thought they had fully-grown and drifted apart. Go with the flow…only. Vergil had always wanted to be alone? These jumbled thoughts make no sense like a half-finished brainteaser.

"You, why did you follow me..." he reprises.

The cowering child searches for an answer, "coz your...always running away and I like chasing after you", ill-disciplined reply.

Dante winked, "I...what's...what's going on?"

Vergil raised him into a sitting position placing a stalk between his lips, "drink".

A beautiful king-size cat was settled beside him, "bwaaabaaa" she growled staring up at her knight in shining armour. Vergil was wearing a gold crown. Dante wanted it but couldn't scope. Sipping the fluid, velvety and sweet-tasting, like candyfloss, dribbling over his chin, sticky. Was candyfloss drinkable? He couldn't recall. Who he was, where he was, or what was…was? Warm fingertips collecting his hair, he heaved, throwing up.

"Fuck", he sighed, he was drunk, the plausible explanation.

The girl uttered into his ear. "I love you, am…am not like the others. I would do anything…for you".

Conviction in her voice stirred nothing in his soul.

Dante chuckled, "sure babe...do what you want...with me", hoarse.

The body has hungers, cravings, desires, all natural, all healthy…right? So why not...why the fucks not share this enjoyment with everyone you run into. It was all the same. To give you up, every part of you, yet there's emptiness...increasing, with every touch. An unfilled isolated place where you hide yourself so no one can ever find the "real" you, who is walking an endless decaying desert, inextinguishable and parched. An aspiration you can never isolate but it's there. Yeah, it's always fucking there. Like a beating heart, restive breathes...a sweetened scent, this scent? A whisper in the wind, a prickly thorn, as you reach for that rose. Are there any roses in this existence?

He never slept with the same person twice...rules...rules and rules. You can't break them...can you? Dante could feel his skin burning as she dug her nails into his aroused flesh. The women he fucked liked his body. This was reciprocated lust…it fades, just like everything else...with the exception of...What was he seeking?

A white stallion and a black one climb the rising sand dunes. Their hoofs freeing the grit which slides away like the grains in an hourglass. They are running...so fast...together, in perfect equilibrium, a perfect amalgamation. That's what he wants. These women they all look and feel the same. After a while…you feel nothing, no pleasure, no pain, and no guilt, even-handed emptiness. Eyeing his skin he could see black leeches sucking his demonic blood. Their tentacles rooted deep inside his torso, nestling. As the parasites fed they chanted in pact.

"Sweet mmm sweet", sucking resolutely flattering their host who woke up and pointed passably.

"See they like me too, just like the ladies…loved", in seventh unhinged heaven.

Angst-ridden epilogue or whatever the fuck that shit was elapsed. "Sweet", he agreed with the spongers which were just the prickly barbs. He wouldn't fall for the same trick twice.

Grinning madly "aha!?"

Vergil eyed him with a straight face, "they are sucking your demonic blood, you blathering lunatic".

Dante came to his senses gruffly. Eyes enlarged. Jabbing the breastfeeding leeches, "their...their real?!"

One unplugged from his ribs, having swollen ten times its original size, dropping off but not before belching obscenely.

"Thank you for the meal" its shrill indebtedness.

Dante sat up trembling to review several more still feasting. About to rip them from his skin but Vergil held his unsteady hands.

"Don't…the sucker will detach and cause more bleeding", stern as usual.

Dante gawked around disorganized. The panther had vanished...had he imagined her too, ogling Vergil, gobsmacked. Was his brother really here...with him, poking Vergil's high cheeks and his own. Would he evaporate if he closed his eyes? Was he still alive? Trying to calm down but feeling utterly helpless, what if he gets pulled back into that dark empty room? Were the bizarre and twisted thoughts nightmares, hallucinations, or musings? Where does one begin to comprehend a problem in one's demented head? Would his parents have to send him to a shrink, terrified? Fidgeting and freaking when Vergil quieted his chaotic mind.

"This is a leech-rich area. They are dropping onto you from the vegetation...nuisance", maddened by the parasites and the daft disoriented child he was administering.

Vergil had wanted to be alone and didn't need the unwanted guest. Gazing up at the connecting tree where Luna was dragging and fortifying her meal, a white haired deer. He had taught her how to hunt. The cub had been orphaned after her mother was killed by poachers. Vergil heard her grief-stricken cries and couldn't abandon her. He loved all felines contrariwise Eva was allergic so he had never had the pleasure of possessing one.

This gateway was in its strategic location whereby he could track Luna's whereabouts easily. Her territory was ever expanding. Sparda would find out sooner than later but he had promised his father he would never devise entryways into the netherworld and not specifically the human realms, a twist of words making him feel a little better about the white lie. Sparda had collected innumerable objects from around the world using this technique but had prohibited his sons from undertaking unnecessary jeopardies. This is what the private jets were for. Then again, Dante knew of the portals whereabouts. Which meant it could be…misrepresented, which inevitably meant Sparda would find out he had gained knowledge on demonic entries, which in turn meant he could get into trouble, incensed. He glared at the birthplace of all teething troubles.

"You are rather irksome you know that", unfulfilled.

Dante could only wiggle and twist in feedback as Vergil located the oral suckers on the feeding leeches and proceeded to push these sideways, followed by the exterior ones. Suckers detached, he flicked the bloodsuckers, one by one tolerantly, which tried to persistently attach to Dante like inchworms. What could conceivably compare to healing demonic blood that would keep them going for centuries? Dante presently was an exposed all you can eat buffet, skin bleeding profusely from their love bites. Vergil inspected the rest of his body for the pests, nudging with his fingernails when he felt hands infolding his shoulders, addressing Dante's uncharacteristic gaze. Vergil could tell the monkey had likely hit his head on the way down or was simply overcome after he blacked out and chattered nonsense.

Dante propped into his structure and specified. "I...hate…you", rationality and sensibleness activating his offensive stance to vie with Vergil's flying into soberness, thanks to the one belittling him. Even in his sorry state his prick of a brother could care less. What could be more fucked up then that?

Through clenched teeth, "what kind of psychopath creates demonic portals in our..."

Vergil struck a large mosquito that had landed on Dante's jaw, the thwack whipping his head sideward.

Leaning forward, "it seems you have recovered...mutt".

Hurling, "you will not speak to anyone about this portal...or else".

The red Devil grinned, eyes lively, he doubled his arms. Chest shaking as he sniggered. What could be worse then what he had already writhed? You can bet he would be calling his parents, tonight, if he didn't die and that was one big motherfucking 'if'. Did he have their contact details saved...yep..? Brain fried but he would find out for sure. A stomach howled so loudly he jolted. Sounds were unsettling his hypersensitive membranes. Gazing down he tapped his abdomen to ask if it was his. Vergil erected, he was famished, watching Luna eating her delightful meal. He too was in need of overindulging. Deciding to gather a harvest from what was measured to be the most consecrated place on earth.

Dante wrapped up his leg immediately, "where...where are you going now", petrified.

Vergil whistled, Luna raised her bloody face and scampered down the tree hastily moaning low grunts.

He informed "try to keep up" dangling from a tree, staring down at him. Vergil unintentionally impersonated the puma's actions.

Dante gaped upwards and heaved to his feet as Vergil teleported to the next branch in search of an assortment of pleasing trails. This banquet would be special. Luna was chasing him below, her advances stealthy, muscles undulating as she stalked his progress by camouflaging in the undergrowth beneath.

Dante looked less stylish as he jumped up and down in the same spot, his disastrous efforts at teleportation. Trying to hike the vegetation bodily like Tarzan, huffing and puffing out of breathe. It was hotter than the depths of hell? Was he really this out of form, Jesus? Grasping his hair, at least he was still in the right time zone. Challenging his limbs he zoomed into the panther's advancements, on foot, and sprinted. Running was still doable and he was decent at it. Dashing over the fallen trees, hurdling tight twists, plunging obstacles as the jaguar came into vision. He could hear her heart, her springs, and swoops as she called to Vergil.

"Bwaaa Baaahh".

Dante could see Vergil in the soaring heights, noiseless, hair afire, body alight. Every place he touched and flew over was singed with heat, scrubbing his unclear eyes and ramming a tree at full speed, "oomph". The shrub wrapped his neck with the branches, angered.

"Hey, fella…you best watch where you're going", looming over him.

Dante clogged, "sorry", when something struck him over the head and grazed his shoulders. The sticky substance caking his upper body was tailed straightaway by a horde of livid buzzing and the furious mantra.

"Thief…thief…!"

Dante understood that the ants, leeches, and trees were not enough. Now he was going to be on the receiving end of stingers. Killer bees had been dispatched from the heavens by you know who. Dante felt their piercing butts and could only mumble in pain as the tree declined to show compassion and let him go, going limp on his knees, enfolding the trunk. What had he done to deserve such brutal punishment? Alex strolled out of the savannah in white converses, comfy denims and a white shirt with the black slogan, "you got served", giving a round of applause.

"Tres bien".

Thrusting a convicting finger straight at his inflamed face and flicking his nose "it's Karma D I warned you...Karma is a bitch and she doesn't forget", lighting up a joint and blowing the smoke in his face, "you even stole my lady friend", casually squatting beside him.

Dante upraised his hand with his remaining strength to present a middle finger, "save it...ass, she was a bitch, did you a favour", sufferer for a cause.

Vergil stomped down with Luna in toe who was growling favourably, trying to trip his legs with her hooks so she could bring him down for a friendly mauling while his hands were noticeably employed, holding a collection of fruits inside a substantial banana leaf. Acai berries, figs, bananas, and even oranges were enveloped tightly inside his improvised carrier as he observed Dante being perforated. Face and eyes inflated, body riddled with swelling stings as he murmured illogically behind a crowd of bees, trampled and useless.

"This...idiot", he would be looking after him whether he liked it or not.

Vergil glided closer and pulled Dante into safety, pitching his sagging corpse over his shoulder. He decided it was time to move away towards the site he had wanted to enjoy secreted but alas things didn't always go according to his wishes. Dante by this excruciating point was completely senseless. Every living cell on his body nipped, burned, and ached. Itching all over he could only see the stirring undergrowth and two orange and green eyes that were straggling Vergil's footsteps. Luna ambushed and scratched Dante's limp arms as they swung side to side, her claws scraping his hands and munching his fingers. It didn't hurt for she was simply playing with her meat.

"Stop...ah…ah", inaudible muffling of complaint.

Luna countered, "bwaaa baaaa", low rumble.

Dante closed his eyes to the gentle sound of flowing waters. This cologne was so familiar. He raised his body and watched downwards. They were in a rocky stream; puffy eyes wouldn't open all the way straining to see where he was when he was tossed into the deep. Dante gulped in surprise as the waves of water whacked him, "huh" gasping, trying to swim upwards but could he even swim? Breaking the surface...sinking.

He bellowed, "heeellllppppppp?!"

Vergil set aside the other important item he was transporting, seating on a slippery rock to watch the cataracts. The water was moving in slow-motion. He could see each teardrop formation merging and falling down the 40 ft. stony drop, apportioning into two smaller falls, rushing and plunging. Had it always looked like this? Had he always been this competed? The sun floodlit penetratingly as if he was envisaging heaven on earth. The serene pool below was lacquer clear, a spirituality-cascade. Undoing the zipper on his vest and throwing it on the waterless stones. Boots and pants shadowed. Debating over his black boxers but these too were cast-off, fully stripped, the sun cleansing his pasty flesh. What a sight he was and what an equally enchanting background he beheld.

"Helllpppp!", the unpleasant screams wouldn't break, disturbing the green and blue butterflies sunbathing on the dry banks full of minerals. Luna ran through the waters towards Dante and this time she tackled him in her enthusiasm, knocking him rearwards, instinctive.

Gurgling and bubbling underwater, "heeellllpppppp!"

Vergil thrust him up and out of the petty liquids. Dante was currently sat in an embarrassing puddle, chest heaving, beholding puzzled. He had been making a scene in a knee-high stream, trembling as Vergil released. Dante ogled his naked figure, blushing awkwardly. He had never seen Vergil nude and couldn't stop gawping like a deviant. Although they were twins his siblings frame was noticeably carved, each muscle ripped. Vergil leapt into the deepest end and Luna hopped in, splashing Dante who crept away from the excitement to catch his breathes. Slumping on a rock and viewing.

Luna was paddling with all fours to reach Vergil's back who bent his arms around her rear legs as she stole a piggyback, her bright orange colours and unique markings so striking against his ashen skin. It was the way one would be drawn to a canvas in a room to ascertain each stroke, dye, tint and colour. Every time he averted his eyes, they would alternate back to watch from afar without justification. It looked fun. Did he want to join in? What a joke. Breathing in the exquisite scent, so it wasn't an ocean but a waterfall he had sensed. How long could he rebuff that interesting scent belonged to his brother, unsatisfied. An old man with a curly beard, dusty sandals, and a white tunic drifted out of the jungle and came and sat down beside him.

Dante could only roll his eyes. "Get a freaking grip", under his breathe, trying his best to ignore the latest trickery, courtesy of his 'under the influence' mind.

Vergil caught and looked his way, eyes white. Dante averted rapidly, exhaustively ducking the old man who was by now busy scribbling a note on his drawn-out prehistoric scroll, the timeworn random watched Vergil intelligently.

"You're right his fighting spirit is a ruling part of his personality".

Dante remembered his fictional loss, "Snow...he...ah", approaching tears. Feeling remorse and pity but he couldn't cry from his puffed-up face, unhappy.

The old man patted his shoulder consolingly, "the mind, the body, and the spirit, are all a part of your soul. The soul cannot die young one, for we are all everlasting", deciding to leave on that astute message.

Dante held his tunic, "hey old man...your Plato right" judging his guise.

The old man laughed. "I was your third grade science teacher. As a prank you sprayed demonic glue on my chair, sending me to the emergency room and early retirement."

Dante let go of his tunic slowly, "oh", the apparition faded, scratching his head with both hands viciously. Do they have fleas here? Sniffing the air noticing the picnic basket located to his right along with Vergil's clothing and boxers. When was the last time he had bothered with underclothes? Roomy was the way to go, more importantly, he was starving. Noting Vergil was preoccupied with the wild cat, pulling the banana leaf to his side, swiftly opening the foliage to discover…fruit, devastated, face sunken.

"What the heck is this" reviewing the Acai stem which bearded a resemblance to blueberries.

The bananas and oranges were next for check-up. "This is what he went to get...shit?"

Placing the contents back, "even a squirrel would do", scratch, scratch.

A lone berry had fallen on the soil he pitched into his mouth without thought. His heart pulsed as he groaned in pleasure. It was ecstasy. Plucking fistfuls of the purple gold and shuffling into his mouth like a true gorger.

"Mph soooo gooo", tongue and teeth transgressed purple, hurriedly moving onto to try a mature banana, the size of his finger. Were they always this petite, undoing and scoffing?

"Mmph", sound of satisfaction when he was clonked on the head having been caught gobbling.

Vergil was dripping wet as he watched his snacks being guzzled by a rabid dog. Luna shook her mane and climbed a neighbouring rock to soak in the sunshine. The elder pulled the leaf towards him to inspect the destruction to his binging bash. He had come just in time, any later, and everything would have been eaten by the gluttonous foodie, revising the loss.

"You did not seek my permission" loud.

The felon still chewing resented, "tastes" munch, munch, "like crap anyway", fibbing.

Vergil took a sweet-scented orange and removed all the rind with exactness, as was the mannerism of the one stripping the fruit. Apportioning in half, Vergil handed a piece to Dante who was itching his body obstinately leaving it torn. Was demonic blood a reflex or functioned by bidding? He couldn't dredge up, staring at the dripping juice which had caught his eyes, slavering. It looked so good but he negated the possible bribe with all his inner power. He was annoyed at being degraded, like hell he would take anything from this stuck-up ass. The fruitlet stank of pity and he didn't want this bastard looking down on him by taking hand-outs.

"I don't want it" touching his face to see if the inflammation had reduced.

Wondering what he looked like right now. He couldn't even talk properly, grumpy. The scent of the orange as Vergil ate made his stomach howl which was ready to wave a white flag of joint interest. Food was his first love. His stomach raised three more white flags in urgency as Vergil proceeded to open a different fruit. Dante stole a peek to see what he was having next, slightly curious. It was the figs. He didn't get a chance to taste these. Feeling left out and sorry for himself. Vergil cleaned and offered the fruit wordlessly. Dante snatched and consumed hastily with his back turned.

"You may share", the soft say behind him.

Dante licked his hands and turned around suspiciously. He distributed the goods in half, much to Vergil's dismay whose brows curved critically. This way he could eat without control and any constraint. Chomping away on his pile, mouth filled with berries like a hamster that is gathering yield for winter. Now that the animal had been secured Vergil leaned closer to examine the various bites and stings on Dante's body. He was worried. There were signs of infection.

"You are not curing", unresolved on which methodology to apply.

Demonic blood automatically cured their wounds. Inexplicably it was Dante who was holding his blood back, acting stranger than usual.

Dante stopped crunching, "tch, not like you would care if I died", certain.

Still seething over the killer bee attack and drowning episode. On both painful occasions he had been made to look like a boob. This sadist relished causing hurt, each time, help had come too slow. The drugs made time non-existent so each frame was the length of a day. He would be fine and in bed had they not come to this Godforsaken place, dropping the fig when Vergil raised his chin upwards to journal his eyes. He flinched as he felt kindly fingertips scraping his bloated lids.

Dante slapped his hand away, nervy, "am...alright", snarling.

Vergil wasn't convinced, "sit still" slitting his thumb between his teeth.

Dante fought grabbing Vergil's wrists. "I don't want...ahhhh", he was jabbed in the eyeball violently.

"Urgh! Get…off" yapping.

Vergil pushed him down. Head thumping a rock as the bleeding thumb was applied all over his reddened face and chest debasing. The fight didn't last long as the Youngers twisting and squirming didn't amount to much. Vergil lifted away. His blood would stimulate the conditions to closure by triggering the dormant life-saving plasma.

Dante upraised, "I said I don't want your help" annoyed smearing his face with his forearm.

Vergil had unsealed all the fruit and gathered the pile as one. "Eat" the quiet directive.

Dante had enough, "I don't want it stuff it yourself", ungrateful.

The elder cleared the air frostily. "I am not by any means doing this for you. I promised mother that I would watch over you in her absence".

Dante wobbled to his feet contrarily, "whatever, I am fine, by myself".

The blue devil gripped his wrist aversely, "where are you going?"

Dante snatched his hand away, "to take a leak".

Vergil forewarned. "I have been feeling unusual since our meal together and so have you. If you are hiding something from me it is better to reveal it now. For if I find out later, you will be liable for the full consequences", growing steadily irked and highly sceptical. Dante's ailments were something else altogether, just like his. Fortunately, Vergil too was having difficulty thinking straight.

Dante wasn't thinking at all, struck by the water dews floating down his brother's sensual and rather stimulating torso. Was it even possible to have such a great body? These explicit imageries were getting worse, getting flustered when Vergil stood awaiting a rejoinder. Lips narrowed tightly as Dante's cursed eyes glared at the shape of his pink nipples. Grimacing, wait a second, why the fuck was he rubbernecking another man's chest, Vergil's at that, deadly white and about to pass out from the shocking insight. Was he…was he checking his brother out? Gulping, throat dry, these…these drugs were making him into...a despicable sick pervert. He had to get away, deciding to leave to reduce the…creepy rigidity with eerie falling out.

"Boobs", unresolved, biting his lips in obvious yearning.

This is what they must call the 'prison'-effect' when straightened men were bent out of shape due to lack of...biting his fist. Even inmates wouldn't fall this low.

Vergil was thrown, "boobs", patting his chest. Was that an insult, eyes tapering?

Luna was rightfully scratching her head, gazing at Dante who made his way around the slippery slopes and wet grounds, out of sorts. He secretly didn't want to stray too far from Vergil who was the only one keeping him attached to reality. Their exchanges would push him to the current but the nipple viewing had been unsettling to say the least, selecting a shrub to relief his bladder and mark this here territory, when he heard footfalls behind him. Dante jiggled his soldier quickly for the last few niggling drops.

"Come on" shaking side to side, tightening his buttocks when he caught a female's blissful twitter nearby, the hair on his forearm standing when he felt a hand yank his tangled mane good-humouredly. Dante rotated and rubbed his head vigorously. He had a bad feeling. Deciding to leg it back to the waterfalls but he couldn't overhear their comforting cascades. He redid his strides, in reverse, through the thick jungle to learn he had taken a wrong turn, going into fright the crap-out-mode. Heart careering he decided to follow the small stream running beside his muddied feet, with assurance, it would lead him to the blue crystal pool, stopping when he caught a girl with bright orange hair inadequately trying to hide behind a tall tree. She sneaked a quick look, dark eyes, beautiful face spattered with what looked like gold party glitter or some kind of bold-coloured paint...nude, her huge springy breasts clearly evident. Maybe the chick was a native?

"Ah...lady" a breeze and he glanced up.

The girl was clinging to a branch overhead, her hair dipping. This time he got a full view of those rosy, rounded, and swollen nipples hanging upside down like grapes, "holy fuck" all worries and insecurities ancient history.

She cackled and hurdled to the floor before him, amused when he noticed arms cuddling the girl's thin waist. The cute girl playing hide and seek behind the trees was now behind her, meaning they were two different chicks, doppelgangers. Dante's fantasy was about to come true. But it wasn't over yet as a third girl appeared behind him and bit his earlobe, she was the one who had tugged his hair, impish hands tracing his beefy physique as they tweeted in accord.

"You're Triplets huh", convinced.

Alpha-male posture activated. Dante's complete acceptance of what others would consider to be fishy circumstances. Hot babes were falling from the sky and he didn't require an explanation if he was ultimately getting laid. Oh yeah, he knew he was high as fuck when his dick rose to the instance, as the sexy ladies encircled, sniffing, touching, licking, and even biting his salty neck. This deception was to his pornographic tastes. Holding his hands they directed him towards new forefronts of sexual indulgences and impulsive spur of the moment erotic compulsions, which almost always ended badly for most folks.

The new location was an unpleasant gloomy marsh. The bright sky withdrew under the darkened foliage as they made their way deeper. The smell of dead leaves and another stench he couldn't quite classify. The girls wouldn't let him go, not that he minded. Dante was in desperate need of release and feminine foreplay was on the vivified horizons. This illusion was a Godsend after fear-provoking, unholy nipple-viewing, amended, coming to a standstill right in front of the shadowy waters. The naked and rather clingy girls regrouped, climbing his frame so he would lie down.

"Oh yeah baby" he submitted.

The sassy ladies kissed him all over, working his roused body like aces. He pulled one of them into his arms to kiss. She straddled his chest as did the other over his lower calves to pleasure his cock with her gaping mouth and voracious tongue. The remaining girl forced his hands above his head lowering them onto her cleavage which he kneaded and fondled to his heart's content. The sighs and whines of mutual pleasure were the final signal that a new meal had been acquired. The enormous green toad was working his enchantments using his gorgeous antennae, surfacing from the cloudy waters noiselessly. Red eyes locked on his prey like a gaiter drifting, closer and closer, ready to swallow the unmindful fly that strangely had no scent.

Dante sniffed the air. Something freaking stank, and even with all the sexy stuff going on the smell was enough to make him want to gag, trying to get out of their grips but the ladies clung to him, entrapping. Dante caught a movement in the undulating liquids. The toad didn't bother with introductions or long drawn-out battle dialogues, laying his tongue to better use by stabbing Dante's chest and curling his upper body in a tight bundle. The toad yanked sliding backwards into the grimy waters to sink his kill. Dante was rattled, shaking side to side, it was no use. The toad squeezed, crushing his ribs leaving him wheezing for breathes, the reeking mud incrusting his frame as he lodged his leg on a dead and fallen log halting his watery grave. The toad pulled and Dante clung on.

"You...got to be shitting me", the truthful departing remarks.

Being eaten by a panther was far more dignified then an ugly toad swallowing him whole. Things were progressing so fast he couldn't keep up, body taking charge out of pure adrenaline and the need to stay alive. The girls giggled and attempted to remove his legs when one was struck by a blade square to the chest. She shrieked an ear-piercing cry. Another was clawed by Luna who pounced on her going straight for her head. The vicious crunch was heard next to Dante's ear as her fangs raptured the demons skull claws shredding flesh, snarling wildly. The remaining girl flung the fallen obstruction. Dante's body was dragged into the swamp, breaking a stick in his futile attempt to escape death. The three baits were pulled away by the toad that fled the scene knowing who had just arrived.

Vergil triggered diving straight inside the pitch-black pond. His devil hunting the ripples as the toad skated, sending a bolt of fire from his hands to irradiate the black. The toad absorbed its meal not caring if it was dead or alive. His acidic fluids would do the rest, panicking when his left flipper was gripped by brutal talons. Vergil's devil was climbing the toad's impassable body, looking for a flaw. The abdomen was the only place where the impenetrable skin could be pierced. He had no weapons. Mato's absence felt immensely as he bit into its repulsive flesh to impose concentrated mutilation, unrestrainedly ripping with his razors to cut away. Slashing, slitting, and hacking to wound the demon that was five times his mass. The toad couldn't fend submerged, disadvantaged he sprung upwards and out, removing his assailant in the process as they both landed on the edge of the bank. The toad negotiated having seen his exploiting cuts, pools of green blood trickling.

Genuinely apologetic, "Son of Sparda...had I known it was you I would never have attacked".

Vergil de-triggered panting he rose, "release...him demon" equally courteous.

The toad gurgled "the demon rules clearly state that once a prey has been immersed the meal cannot be repossessed by another. Who knows this better then you"?

Vergil glared, "release…him", sapphire swords escalating around his darkened figure.

The toad was about to appeal his case when he started to suffer a choking spasm, plopping and hopping in circles, croaking. Dante used the stick to broaden the toad's ballooned entrance, one leg visible as he enlarged the toothless hole, quaffing and breathless as he squeezed his upper body midway through the opening, flopping limp. The sight was ludicrous as he thrust the stick inside the toads flaring nostrils for the concluding shove. The overweight toad sneezed and Dante was sent careering towards Vergil who he crashed into. The toad took the opening to bolt the scene, springing, leaping and bounding into the waters. Clever enough to know he was no match for two Sons of Sparda. The one who had enjoyed a free ride inside a toad's gullet raised his fist exultantly.

"That's…that's right bitch", gulping lung full of air.

"You got served" panting from exertion backwards onto his tense sibling. He wanted to say something cool but Alex's shirt motto proved to be good enough.

Vergil shoved Dante. "Luna" he called, having lost sight of her.

Luna dashed out of the shrubberies, pouncing on Dante's straining abdomen and sending Vergil to the floor to sit on top of his chest. Pasting his face and curing cuts along his forearms. Dante could hear her purring, well it sounded like purring. Daring to reach out and touch the wild creature while she was distracted, massaging her head awkwardly, indulgently soft.

Blurting "what's the deal with the...cat"?

Vergil raised, the animal tucked between his legs. "She was orphaned. I have taken care of her ever since", inspecting her pelt for wounds.

Dante withdrew as Luna met his eyes, intimidated by her constricting pupils. "She keeps...calling you bwaaabaaa". Voicing his sad state of mental affairs in the open, nothing mattered now.

Vergil sieved his cerebral vocabulary, "baba...means father in many languages" well-informed.

Dante sniffed his underarms and cringed, "so she's your kid huh, why not just bring her home? It would save you this shitty trip", unusually communicative.

Vergil squeezed her paws to check her talons, "she doesn't belong with me. Even I cannot replicate this home."

The irresponsible devil watched the waters. "Should have killed that shitty toad", fault-finding.

He couldn't wait till these drugs wore of. His out-of-focus and inaccurate mind needed a damn break, even though he felt bolstered after his harrowing or laughable ordeal.

Vergil quantified his near death experience, "only a fool like you would fall for that toad's hoax. You really have no sense of self-worth."

Dante defended his integrity, "what man could resist three hot chicks suddenly coming onto him. Even an impotent man would react, not like you'd get it".

The level-headed twin remarked "those maidens are a part of that filthy toad".

To which Dante turned over and purified his mouth by rubbing his tongue vigorously, clambering after his rescuer who was already leaving. Sticking close again as they made their way back towards the gemstone fountain. This time Dante scaled the rocks along the slanted falls to reach their peeks and rinse. The adrenaline rush was still impelling his veins as he ascended the top, footsteps taking him higher and higher, about to jump in when he observed the dizzying altitudes, standing frozen, suffering vertigo. He had gotten ahead of himself and needed to find a safe way down without drawing attention. Looking like an ample loser.

Vergil watched the idiot who had almost achieved to kill himself at every turn, out on the verge, stuck. Recognising the hesitation signs on his face and deciding to intervene. Even it wasn't asked for. A phantom sword impaled Dante's gullible ass, shoving him over the edge. The angst-ridden scream of surprise reached Vergil before the unsophisticated splash. He roofed his mouth to halt his laughter but it had clutched him having seen the expression on Dante's face. Vergil chuckled responsively as his victim surfaced. Puckering his brow at his own immoral behaviour but merriment burst forth without his go-ahead. He tried to break away but couldn't. Even to the point of forgetting why he was so amused. The younger devil was visibly infuriated. Drawing his steps towards Vergil and stumbling.

"You jerk" condemning.

Vergil's unregretful laughter wouldn't cease. "I...fear there...is something wrong with me", explaining, and quite possibly being repentant.

Dante paused in surprise, covering his face but a snort fled nonetheless. "This is...pfft", chuckling irrepressibly as he recollected all the ghastly events including heaving the stick in the toad's hooter, seating beside Vergil. They both snickered and laughed until they had painful stitches and their stomachs ached. Talking would have been pointless. Neither could find the courage to use their tongues or form coherent sentences. Dante found it even funnier that Vergil too might be high. This laughing fit was by no means normal and thus the mystery was resolved. Mato hadn't quite betrayed him. But now they were both totally fucked and were going to pass on from motorized glee where no one could ever find them.

Grunting, he started to eat his last supper. It was refreshing. Everything not only tasted good but felt dreamy and unreal. The waters, the occasional colourful array of hummingbirds and the man seated irreproachably beside him. It wouldn't be such a bad death. Stealing glances eye's watering. He couldn't physically take any more abuse collapsing from fatigue onto the warm bank. Luna was frolicking with the butterflies, trying to paw them but they were a flutter of aeronautical ballerinas. Safe, he was safe, closing his eyes, riding Pacific's, the ultimate feeling of euphoria flooding over.

"Hey...when we were...kids did I sneak into your room" doubting.

Vergil poised, gazing up at the sky as the clouds darkened. The first bead of rain fell on his outspread hand, shifting away from Dante's side to lie on an indulgent cover of earth. He wanted to spectate solitary. How the heavens can slake and give lifecycle to this cryptic world. The dewdrops rebounded on the waters surface. Vergil saw each droplet for what it was... equilateral. As they struck his skin, his arms flowed to his flanks, relaxing.

Dante opened his eyes to the nourishing dribs that were plummeting and rolling. The sound of reverberations directly above thundered from the tips of his fingers down to his toes, tingling and electric. How could he pronounce what he was feeling? No say could. It was just one of those rare perfect moments. He could only look on and arrest. Rising he wandered closer to the one who had pulled away from him. Vergil closed lids were flickering. Dante lay down on his belly, elbows pegged in the soggy earth as it seeped with rainwater, he slanted sideways to catch his brother's hot breathes against his jaw. He didn't know what he was doing, mesmerised by how incautious Vergil was being. He was undeniably hallucinating and Dante wanted to dig more dirt on the elder apart from the demonic portal thingumajig, resorting to his controversial blackmailing line of attack.

Snickering, "what ya seeing there Verge?" this was likely his brother's one and only trip. The jerk would never do drugs, sure-fire.

Vergil's lids fluttered but he remarkably replied. "I see a barren earth Dante. A girl lies trapped amidst. Brown skin, emerald eyes, she lays imprisoned, from dusk, till dawn, alone and to come".

Dante sneered as he layered Vergil's hair in muck and sludge, sliding it downhill. Engrossed and concentrated as he stained the whites chocolate with his hands. It was entertaining tarnishing someone so spotless, bantering, "you're feeling horny, bro?" tittering, even virgins had to blow off steam. Any time a girl was cited it would set him off, his dick doing all the thinking and chatting.

Devilish grin prevalent, "bet she has a nice pair of...mph".

Vergil cupped Dante's mouth shut but didn't open his eyes, "she suffers endlessly...until".

Dante lowered Vergil's hand but didn't let it go, glazing it in mud. "Until she gets fuc..."

This time Vergil opened his eyes. Dante trembled. The eyes that never saw him as one and the same considered him equally. It was Dante's turn to shy away from Vergil's gaze who was refunding the sludge, descending his muddy fingers through his uncontrollable hair setting it in contour.

"You look hideous with my haircut", the insulting observation.

Dante chuckled, "yeah well it would mean you look ugly too with this hairdo", supplementing with a skim of his muzzle over the others. Reminding they were replicas.

Vergil continued "her drained eyes gaze into the sky. A solitary tear of joy reels down her arid cheeks, upon his influx".

Dante opened his eyes to watch the eddying meres that were Vergil's irises as he surveyed Luna. Inside them he could see the chronicle playing out. He had seen this dessert in his own soul, the anguish, desperation, and a hunger that comes with solitude. His brother fit the portrayal of what the incursion would bear a resemblance to, listening attentively.

"The clouds form the shape of her lover who has been roving ceaselessly in search of her pleas. The girl's hands extend as he falls from the sky to quench her thirst, filling her with love that is only held in reserve, for her. They are inescapable lovers".

Dante lowered his head over Vergil's mouth to watch the rainfall dripping between them. How could he get closer? The other didn't notice the surging warning signs.

Vergil expressed "a union that has been set in stone. Replenishing her, he sacrifices his very existence to sate her thirst. She weeps knowing she will never see him again. In the love that they make...he descends into her crust, life and death sphere as one. He takes his last inhales inside her arms, fading into nothingness".

Vergil paused as Dante skewed, their lips touching, testing, hot breathes ramming. "Go on", the younger pressed.

The elder finished, heedless, "the girl's sorrow bears the first spores of their love, she nurtures until the infertile terrain breathes new life..."

Thirsting lips hovered down onto his barring them in a passionate, illusory, kiss. Dante shook as he broadened the illicit gap with a forceful riffle of his heated tongue, fingers bending around Vergil's gasping neck, the other arm enfolding around his naked chest restricting him. His strength had returned. What was he doing and why couldn't he stop, shuddering. What kind of expression was Vergil making as he clashed fiercely to break free from their tangled and sealed lips. Was this an act of revenge for the hurt he had felt last night? Was this a joke? Was it the effects of the drugs, or a simple bodily need that had awakened within? What did it matter? God as his witness, this enraptured caress felt sacred. Dante was afraid of himself, of the smile that lingered as he felt Vergil biting his tongue and lips in revulsion. The pain so exhilarating he wanted more and more.

No one had ever rejected him like this. It felt so good. He didn't want to let go...breathless as a formidable hand clutched his neckline, fingernails digging into his flesh, scraping, another hand yanking his hair to drive him off but it was too late. A drip of water between Vergil's rims had floated inside his soul quenching the one crossing that infinite dessert. It was raining. Self-discovery, that he too could be loyal, moral, and unquestionably devoted to one soul…poetic. So this is what they call love...so very…very unnerving, opening his eyes to face the deadly repercussions of his actions and the ultimate reaction. He would bleed for this. Vergil's eyes were burning cerise, teeth bared and bloodied, he devil triggered in unregulated rage. Dante slit his thumb on one of the devils protruding fangs as he growled menacingly, chest heaving.

"So sexy", he whirred unrepentant as a different kind of ravishing ensued.

'Dante must Die mode' had just been instigated.


	6. The Twilight

Dante witnessed the hasty torrents flooding his feet in stark revelation. When had the waterfalls transformed into a booming vortex? Beholding Vergil clutching his side at the edge of a dicey abyss? Where were they? How did they get here? How could they find their way back? This dwelling was about to fall into sheer ruins. The world was coming to an end? No fear though, it was all inside his messed up head, side-tracked by the dithering blue coat that was his brother's chic garb. Dante contemplated his body; he too was clad in an equally pulsating red coat. Vergil didn't turn around. A sensation of crushing suffocation rushes his torso matching the speeds of the frosty waters. Another bad trip...yeah just...weird...he could have sworn he was feeling better after he...did he kiss Vergil?!

Rhythms of his heartbeats are faltering inside the bumpy recollection? Lips tingling as soon as he grazes them...sceptical, did he, did he…kiss…his brother lips? It was...a slip-up...spur of the moment...just…excuses, excuses...excuses. He didn't regret what he had done and he didn't give a fuck what the world would think, so why did it feel that...that was just the faulty start and this was the ultimate end to what should never have chanced between them. Heart aching he clutched his tender chest. Why did it hurt so badly? No, he was daydreaming again. All he had to do was come around, like he always did, and get away from this funny twilight and unnerving realism which he didn't want to face sober.

"Verge", he whispered hesitantly. When would these drugs fade...when would he feel regular...when? Trapped inside a lucid dream, mind awake, body adrift.

The elder raised his head as if he had caught his uncertain call, yet chose not to face him. How badly he wanted to see that fuming and pissed off face. Dante paced towards his doppelganger, slowing, stopping, and halting in the difficult rising and falling waters, for Vergil had taken an irresolute step forward in answer, closer to the edge. Dante stood distressed. Was Vergil...bleeding? The coat looked saturated in a dark substance which could only be kinship, dread rising from the pits of his stomach, creeping towards his restless heart. Dante ran...he didn't know why he was racing. The splish-splashes of the unreal waters striking his bare chest inducing fear he had never, ever felt. Run...run...run, his heart admonished his unsteady spirit which was murmuring the name of the one who was about to leave him behind where he could never follow.

"Vergil!", he stated inside a shaking inhalation.

Was he gripping Rebellion, watching the dripping blade which was inconsolable, the protruding tip rippling through the cascades, carving his path to extract haste, ushering him to run wilder, before it was too late. Rebellion was in woe. Sensing their surreal bond was about to be cut. The throbbing of his cherished blade making him yell at the top of his lungs, his hearts bitter torment.

"Vergil..." he cried, crushed. Running out of breathe, and out of time.

The man he had called turned to meet his grieving eyes, rotating sublimely. Mato clutched in his right hand, she too was weeping, supplicating Dante to reach her master's side. Her regrets, burdens, and sorrows, pulling at his heartstrings as he extended his hand to the one they all prized. Vergil's eyes held a tempest as he took another vacillating step in reverse towards the open arms of uninterrupted null and void...he was tumbling. Dante's hand reached for his brother's fingertips but all they caught was the bite of Mato's sting for the very last time. All was lost. All was gone. What lay behind was bleak emptiness. He would be the one to tread it, all on his own, and in broken pieces. Who would walk life's path beside him...he was all alone.

Dante's heavy eyelids opened in downright shock and panic, clammy, sticky, and moist build perspiring as if he had a temperature running from the tips of his brows down to his toes, frame shivering hysterically as he sat up tersely, raising his hands to his blurry eyes to view the stinging scratch. The room was pitch-black. Lightning struck, on cue, shadowed by thunder giving him time to check his untarnished hand, scraping his palm in disbelief. It was bucketing, really, each drop pounding its descent against his finely tuned hearing but there was no visible cut.

"Fuck!", he collapsed back in bed casing his face, heart still thumping as if he had been...running. Rolling over on his side he unrelentingly stared at his hands. The last thing he remembered was getting his ass whooped by Vergil's devil and blacking the crap out. Maybe, even the unedited tour to the tropical rainforest had been an imagined thing of the most fucked up kind, either way he couldn't calm down, tossing the covers to find he was obviously nude but there were no marks of any kind of scuffle that most definitely may, or may not have taken place, blurred. Did Vergil heal him...with his blood…could be…fumbling his head in loss. No one, even in their right mind could keep up with all these strange happenings.

"What the fuck is going on!", he grated quietly and decided to ask the only stable person who had any answers, successfully reaching the doorknob without issues when he felt a pinch on his foot. Dante knew exactly who it was without glancing downwards.

"Did you miss me?" Comes the irritating voice, his voice to be clear-cut, gawking downhill to assess.

So the facts remained kind of like this...he wasn't quite kaput with the drugs since the charioteer was leering up at him.

"Take me with you, you need my help" he shone, extending a hand of friendship.

Dante elevated his foot and stamped on the fucker's head, "hell no!"

The crushed sucker lay squelched, and with a bit of luck, dead. Dante was done with this hallucinatory shit and anything that was unlucky enough to appear as an apparition would be dealt in the same savage manner. Bottom line was, he was done being a wuss. Undisturbed by the cold blooded murder he had just committed, glaring at the other trespassers inside his darkened room who had borne witness to the wicked act. The midget buried himself under the bed losing his lighter. The old hag cowered behind the frightened shadow which masked itself beside the draperies doing a very poor impression of them.

Dante warned "don't mess wiv me!"

Maddened and on the inceptions of accepting lunacy as a viable and operative choice, stomping straight towards his brother's room. Walking, striding, and then sadly running. Dante couldn't get rid of the feeling of loss that had embedded subconsciously, leaving him unsettled to the core. He had never imagined his life without Vergil. Not once...not ever. No matter how little or no interaction they had since they were kids. No matter how far they had wandered apart. No matter how arrogant his shitty brother was...it had never occurred to him what his life would be like without his twin. Stopping outside his doors, out of breathe, to find a kid sat there holding a bear by the name of Ballou. Their matching eyes joined as they stared at each other. Dante crouched to assess his babyhood. This hallucination was too sweet to hurt.

"Hey kiddo", he smiled proudly. On a scale of one to ten he was eleven on the adorable factor.

The childhood he kitted out in blue pyjamas and untidy hair puckered as he pinched a bloated cheek, "guess I can't kill you", convinced.

Baby Dante hadn't quite discovered his dark, spoiled and ill-disciplined ways could only blubber and comeback a touch, snuggling his precious teddy bear that was likely collecting dust in the attic.

"We can't get in", tiptoeing to try the doorknob, one more time, to demonstrate to his now partner in crime the reasons he was locked outside.

Dante puffed out his chest to impress, "we'll just see about that".

Jumping and holding the doorframe he kicked with his straining muscles with everything he had to flop right on his ass. Babe Dante moved out of the way as someone else laughed at his let-down, "ass" the snide quip. Dante was disappointed to learn the little villain wasn't quite dead and had hitched a ride on one of his collectible toy motorcycles. Leaning on and drumming the door.

"Looks like you two can't get in" crossing his arms, "you need my help...bitch!"

Dante refused to join hands with the pint-sized devil and decided to try one more time, banging the doors, thumping sideways, and in due course blaring loudly.

"Open the door Vergil I know you're in there!", bang, bang, bang.

Hammering his head on the entries, over and over as the dualistic 'he's' viewed with gaping mouths at his cutting-edge harassment, stalking, and further decline into inanity. Dante sobbed, sliding down and using the back of his head to wallop and whack the doors since his forehead was by now awfully sore and bright red.

"I don't feel right" he whined, giving up.

The charioteer picked his nose, "y' thinks", flinging his findings.

Dante heaved, "I need...you" murmuring his sadness, the penetrating words and their substantial significance sinking in slowly.

"I fucking need you..." he self-confessed staring at his hand, hoping Vergil had heard.

The soft bear was clumsily positioned over his sore temple as he started to cry inaudibly. That horrible nightmare and the lasting toxic repercussions wouldn't stop to let him see the following facts. Vergil might actually be asleep. He might be avoiding him, legitimately, for having been unexpectedly sexually molested earlier and resenting the fact he would have to have further dealings with him, the undoubtable possibility that in his bid to keep his promise to their dearest mother Vergil would avoid killing Dante at all costs. The one stubbornly seated outside his doors could only sense and feel his growing absence in the endless nightfall. Dante couldn't stop the warm and salty tears from seeping through his tightly locked closures.

"I need you", he bit his lips to hold in a moan.

When was the last time he had cried from the bottom of his heart so God himself could witness his creation in all its lucidity? Deteriorating down his humid cheeks to lie between the dips of his puffed-up lips? He savoured them amidst the bases of his innermost rims to find he was hungrily kissing Vergil, all over again, who was trying to pull away from his frantic grip. The look of condescension on his face, those piercing eyes and an aura that drove him crazy and crazy was what he had become in his devoted deliriums. All he wanted was a little bit more of their rough grazes, their dipping textures and their inconceivable warmth. Entombing himself in the panting mouth of the one he couldn't afford to lose. To be one with his breathes, compulsive hands coiling around his twisting waist to cohere to body warmth that was scorching him, so very painful, so very raw, so very real, the immersion so enriching, for he had never felt so vulnerable and exposed, embracing with all his might, utterly tangled.

"Do what you want to me Verge", he begged in monotonous illness.

Luna was guarding over them with bright orange eyes that resembled the vortices of immobility. If only he could return to that enchanting waterfall. If only he could seal their kiss. If only he could make this unattainable soul his. It was not Vergil's body he craved, for flesh would perish into dust. It was his brother's spirit that he wanted to entwine within, to feel complete, to find restful solitude.

The charioteer removed his golden helmet, feeling to a certain degree, guilty. He didn't mean to make the big mug cry. Assuming he had gone too far. The angry child cuddled Dante and whacked the charioteer with Ballou in rejoinder.

"I get it!", he squeaked, complying with their joint wishes.

Deduction, that they needed to find an unconventional way inside and the only place was through the hole-in-the-wall. The charioteer raised, adjusting his revealing tunic which had been wrongly inscribed a miniskirt in the eyes of their beholder. Scaling the wall he released the window in the lobby and whistled. Dante peeped from behind the bear, eyes reddened as the child smeared his tears coarsely with his sleeves.

"What!", he pooh-poohed in a hefty tone.

The charioteer pointed "well you want in or not?"

Dante stood up warily and walked towards the window remembering he could hike the climbing plant to get to the other side of Vergil's room, perking up. That window could be open and it was worth a shot. At least he could peep inside to see if Vergil was up to scratch. The little he slapped his thigh leaving it stinging.

"We haven't got all day so get going, dumb-ass".

Dante restrained the desire to launch the anti-hero outside the window when the other member of their identical group reminded, "am comin too".

Dante sighed remembering these things weren't actually here and he was likely having talks with thin air. At least no one saw him crying. The red devil would blame his out of control emotions on the drugs but the jabbing pain in his chest wouldn't cease, helping the child climb onto his back whom wrapped his arms and legs around his upper body. Dante widened the gap and climbed outside into the showers, the rain splattering his senses as he climbed the vines towards the front of Vergil's room. The lights were out and even in his rather nonsensical state he could tell that it was between 1.00 or even 2.00 a.m.

The kid spoke, "I kissed too" telling.

Dante paused and stared at his reddened face as he...the little he, meaning the child thingy he flushed reservedly. Ballou pressed into his neck.

Dante questioned himself, perplexed by the confession, "you did what"?

The child made a snogging face and Dante's eyes widened in surprise, "pfft…when?"

Vergil had come under attack before. Staring downwards at the gravel floor...ruminating. A smile crept between his lips as the kid whispered into his ear stirring their past making Dante chortle at the memory. The confession of love had actually happened when they were seven, that one time when Vergil had allowed him to sleep in his bed Dante had made a vow that he would be the one to marry his twin who had been offended by the absurdity of what he was hearing. Guesstimate, he had always been the mature kind. To emphasise his point and convince his brother that he was deadly serious Dante had kissed Vergil's lips as he slept having learned from a film that smooching was adult's way of telling another that they were very special indeed.

Sparda and Eva had made for good observations and role models as to know-how the art of sticking your tongue out and jabbing it inside the mouth of the one you loved could result in them becoming all yours. It was a humble plan from the start. It hadn't fared well since Vergil had started to lock his door every night and ignore his very existence. Dante had eventually given up on his childish dreams but why hadn't he remembered this until now, climbing the vines gradually, ignoring their complaints and the fact that the rain was arising in the wrong direction, defying the laws of gravity. Dante wheezed and held the sledge to pull himself up, extremely thankful. Vergil was asleep; he could see his twin's silhouette...lulled. His heart hadn't reduced its hustle, finally slowing. The child tapped the window excitedly and placed Ballou on the windowsill.

"We did it" he wiggled.

The charioteer appeared next to Dante's shoulder, "couldn't have done it without me" self-righteous.

The red devil gripped and was about to test the window to see if it would slide open when another form fused out of the gloom. Dante lowered as Mato's tunic fell to the carpet enlightening her incredible spine. The energy he felt from her atmosphere was a jumble of flourish and decline, as she climbed Vergil's edging with celestial poise, her long pants still embellishing her forelegs in her impatience to drain his life. She had waited, all day, for his return. Mato lowered her head over Vergil's lips and drunk hastily.

Dante's jaw clamped shut, abruptly wide-awake even while enduring the most potent effects of the drugs, the delusions fading. There was only him and the rain that was travelling his soaked and bare flesh. The walls failing between his fingertips as Yamato released her hold and arched rearwards. Gilded flickering light wrapped her skin as she absorbed nourishing chi. Hands clasping her face as Vergil's unsurpassed light slowly made its way inside of her. Dante could see it, curving through her skin, her hair...her very being. It was his brother's soul. The partition wrinkling as his eyes were reduced rubicund. What was he feeling? What was the name of this emotion he had seen countless times on another's face...jealousy, envy, anger, or was it hatred...nope...this was...amused.

Mato turned around, spinning her hair behind her ear, the tunic emerging from between her skin as she rose away from her master's sides, albeit reluctantly. Pleased, she watched Dante through the dividing windows of their open souls. They had just shared one another's deepest, darkest secrets. A mutual fixation they were powerless to resist. Treading closer and unlocking the seal she pulled the window aloft and braced on her elbows, murmuring.

"I tasted you on his lips…seems we are both chasing what neither of us can have".

Meeting Dante's stony stare who averted her gaze to review the damage she had inflicted. Vergil's breathes had quickened. He didn't need his demonic powers to know his brother's skin had discoloured. Mato had stolen his vitality. Even an idiot like him could see what had just taken place.

Yamato kissed his hearing, with a tip-off of malice, "your tainted lips have touched my masters...twice...as a human child it was considered cute", their eyes inharmonious, "but as an adolescence...so very dishonourable and out of bounds. I know he would never commit such lewdness. It has always been you...dirty...child".

Dante could smell Vergil's traces from her. So the drugs were not a mistake, Mato had planned this cunningly from the start. Vergil non-stop slept, branded for being a light sleeper and yet he was out cold. Yamato cupped Dante's face reminding him of where he was at present dangling and who he was judging.

"He bought you back when you collapsed...you always seem to burden his heart and yet I cannot see a single redeeming trait in you" talking down sweetly, the way she did his former blade.

Dante was hushed momentarily, "sounding kinda jealous Ma-to" about to explode himself. Managing to hide his passions from her imperial scrutinises.

Mato broadened the opening between them to allow the pesky prowler inside, turning her back on him to search for the hidden item inside her master's orderly room. In her delighted state she hadn't quite apprehended there was another knife-edge stashed away from her ability to see. The cloth and Goldstar gave off no traces of Rebellion who was stored out of her view, unmoving, asleep, as decreed.

"Jealous?" Openly taunting as she found the envelope Sparda had arranged for Vergil, memorising the combinations to the vaults. The first part of her plan had gone well. Dante was incapacitated and Vergil had been witness to his state of mind. Anything could happen when one was not sober...including catastrophic fates.

Dante had by this point clambered inside the room. He was standing over Vergil, fingertips climbing to his brother's heart that was beating as hard as his, skin considerably chiller as Mato stood behind him, pressing into his naked body. He felt her stolen warmth on his back as her arms curled around his drenched chest, salaciously asking.

"Do you love him?"

Dante couldn't answer the question. He didn't know what he was feeling, surveying the traces of gold-dust still floating around the bed, unsure whether these bright specks were real, just like the events that had come to pass between them. Vergil's hands were laid bare on top of the bed sheets. Dante slanted his head and trailed his undressed forearm, halting on the tips of his fingers to wrap them tightly inside his own, speaking softly in pain.

"Don't you fucking dare create a portal into hell...you hear me...you crazy bas..." falling into danger.

Yamato bent to observe his drained state, "you needed rest" having whispered a different enchantment.

This one was similar to Vergil's but it allowed the victim to remain fully conscious but wholly paralysed. Many humans used medicated drugs in the same way, dragging Dante's leg as he lay on his spine still clutching Vergil's fingertips which fell away from his gasp. Yamato unsealed the doors to a part of the mansion that no one, absolutely no one but Sparda had admittance to. Dante could only see the blurry ceiling as he was taken further and further away from any help, halting his journey outside a mammoth silver vault and for good reason too. Yamato unsealed the spells. Dialling the unbreakable code fixed by Sparda. The vault rotated several times unbolting the numerous combinations. Yamato waited affably for the final click which subsequently followed, entering the domain of the ones whom had been confined to these chambers for as long as they could remember.

Two giant silver cages were the only items in the spacious and otherwise white marbled and prettily domed rooftop. Yamato whirled in full circles around Dante's body as if she was caught in the midst of Sufism and was reaching upwards for perfection. Dante could only see her silvery locks as she spun on unadorned feet. He widened his mouth to talk but nothing came out. Neither did he have any control over his body. It was as if he was suffering sleep-paralysis but he knew from the bottom of his heart that this time what was happening to him was very real. Yamato slowed down to a halt as the last of Vergil's essence seeped through her pores. Why could she not find a way to retain his warmth, kneeling beside Dante who was gazing senselessly at the heavens? Mato tilted his face so he could see her blood tears that were streaming down her cheeks. Yamato confessed her heart.

"Love is...painful...is it not", smoothing Dante's tangled tresses.

"Unlike you...I have always loved...only him", withdrawing slowly from his side.

This wicked game was about to turn gory. How could she stop when she was so close to achieving her opulence, willing to sacrifice anyone standing in her way? Dante couldn't blink and continued to stare upwards, focusing on his breathing which was beginning to slow down dangerously, overhearing the doors bolting shut as Mato left but not before unravelling the binary chests to the physical assets that were inhibited indoors. Yamato didn't bother resealing the gates or recasting the curses since it had to look like Dante had found his way inside the prohibited zone all by himself, beaming when she heard a soft pat on the marble followed by another. Ebony and Ivory were far overdue for their much needed introductions.

Two unknowable wolves strutted out of their quarantines, their fur lavish silver, their eyes ruddy orbs, their fangs...that of the marble. They viewed their meal that had been left alive, sniffing the air distrustfully, the blood of Sparda making their chomps drip, drip, and churn. This blood was the cause of their entrapment. This blood was the cause of their pen. This blood was the cause of their misery. Howling in unison for the two were twins. Ivory crouched and circled Dante a little too close without Ebony's permission that launched a venomous attack on his mane reminding who the Alpha of the two was.

"Wait!", he snapped with grimacing teeth.

Ivory whimpered in distress, tail tucked between his legs, cowering to submit "yes", he conformed lying on his belly to prevent another painful bite. No matter how hard he had tried in the past to rival his sibling he had failed miserably, nearing death. Ebony was heavy-handed in his devil form for they as pistols shared equal powers. The violent wolves were unrivalled and unparalleled when it came to the most sought after firearms in all the cosmos. No one and absolutely no one could ever tame them and most owners had found out the hard way why wolves made for very bad pets and pets was the correct term for those demonic arms that had given up their freewill to serve under another. Unlike these lower sprites they would never sign up into a master and slave affiliation. Ebony's bad temper barked at Ivory's neck making him howl in pain.

"I taste his flesh first!" he thundered.

Ivory whined quietly and withdrew awaiting his turn, limping backwards "yes" yielding.

Dante could hear but not react, trying to swallow the saliva lodged in his dry throat as he heard the pattering and snarling moving closer. Ebony's vicious energy was an electric blue. He could feel the surge of verve as the mammoth wolf stalked nearer. Standing on top of his chest with his front paws. Ebony's statuesque figure glared down.

"Spawn!", he growled sniffing Dante's aroma, muzzle and teeth bristling.

A weight so heavy his lungs were about to fail. The wolf sensed his discomfort and opted to circle his naked body deciding where to start. Sparda would have to pay for what he did. What better way to recompense him then to wolf his precious hybrid son. Unlike other devil arms they had no problems in hunting feeble prey to devour their strength and abilities. Sparda's blood was the highest prize of all, frenzied bite clamped around Dante's shoulder as the wolf pulled and ate the morsel of meat insatiably. The excruciating pain that Dante was handling could only be conveyed by the slight tip of his fingers as if he was clasping a weapon. Mind swirling, he was standing in those surging waters. Vergil was mounted near the edge, in danger of falling. And the one that had been inside his hands had followed him everywhere until he had…discarded him. Dante's hands were hopelessly empty.

"Rebel", he mouthed but no sound was emitted as another bite landed on the side of his ribs, the pain shooting up his spine, a tear trailing his cheek in his body's gentle cry. He didn't want to die, not now, not ever, not until...viewing the bright dome with astonishing new insights. The room was spinning as memories spiralled. Sparda and Eva were smiling at him. How could he die...like this, when he was ready to change who he was...for the better. Dante had tasted life for what it truly was and he would do anything to savour it again. Bending the dips of his elbows around Vergil's crown as he recited a tale of love, impressing his face against his brother's, grazing, rubbing, and caressing, he wanted to hear more...and all that could have been.

A black shadow breezes inside and it is Ivory who is first to counter the trespasser having picked up his scent in the air. One more devil arm had just crashed their party. His sibling was still mauling Dante to observe the newest threat. Pacing, pacing, and rapidly engaging the youngest devil arm that was neither equipped to deal with the savage attack that was about to prompt. Still recuperating from the midst of tragic sleep Rebel did the only thing he could. Ebony was struck on the muzzle with bare fists sending him hurtling into the sturdy walls, crashing with a loud thud. Rebellion crouched over Dante's immobilised body. Ivory pounced on his back inches from his neck, Rebel clutched the frenzied wolves' collar and sent him plunging into his brother who was about to stance, taking Dante inside his cool arms, Rebel's dark hair was drifting over his attractive face as he tried to speak, silence rose. Rebellion hugged Dante who had seamlessly stopped breathing, pressing tight enough to incite awakening.

Dante had passed out and came to the luxurious green swirls that were Rebel's forgiving perceptions. Even with that alarming guise of a mask what lay behind was just an unkempt sweet child with a heart of gold. Rebel's dark brows wrinkled as he saw the stream of blood flowing from Dante's abdomen. Blood tears trickling as he pressed on the wound to halt the gushing plasma. Rebel had never seen so much red, flustered, trying to use his insubstantial build to shield the wild attacks of the canines that were by now very, very, hungry.

Ivory took the opening to teleport and inflict a vicious bite to Rebel's exposed neckline. Clamping with his teeth and snatching side to side for concentrated impairment. Ebony joined the bout rapidly pouncing on Rebel's exposed chest as he fought to dislodge the beast that was throttling his neck. They toppled and mauled recognizing his dimness. This sprite was untutored.

Dante was sprawled a few inches away from the gesticulations of their swiftness and brute strength. Craning his head with everything he had, willing his body to stand and fight. Teeth clamped shut as he heard their fangs slitting and biting, all the years that he had mistreated his blade as if it didn't exist. They were going to kill him. He was sure of it. This loss would break him. Twisting in pain as he tried to growl and unleash his devil trigger but it was as if he was tied down by shackles of concrete that were shattering his body and soul. Seconds later Ebony returned to his bleeding torso to meal. The scent of Dante's blood was deeply alluring letting Ivory take care of the feeble sprite as it put up minimum resistance, hissing next to the red Devil's ear, white muzzle dripping with carnage and blood.

"These pets you hire are even weaker then you. Devouring him would be of no use to me", snarling, "kill him!"

Ivory caught his command, ears twitched in answer. He clamped harder around Rebellion who had yet to make a complaint, just like Dante, enduring mute.

Ebony growled and bit into Dante's gash to snatch another piece to nourish, pausing to watch the open vault. The gates of silver and locks were unguarded; any delay in their escape would be far too risky, sensing the dormant power that was not to be taken lightly.

"Feast quickly", he admonished.

Ivory released and raised his head as Rebellion lay quietly on his back, licking his bloody chomps, "allow me a taste of...his spawn". Trotting forward, cautiously, knowing his comrade's needless temper.

Rebellion overheard and tried to crawl towards Dante's side, covered in his life plasma. His neck has been perforated, clutching it to stop the tide, black tresses dripping, blood spurting. The white marble was tinted brightly in splashes of voluptuous red. Dante watched on in suffering as Ebony's hateful attention diverted towards Rebel who was attempting to haul his body closer to his master's, sickened. Gazing up at the untouched ceiling Dante shut his eyes in remorse, and regret. Why had he dragged Rebel into this? Breathes are faltering once more when loving fingers clutch his so he wouldn't sleep. Rebellion had managed to reach his master's hands. What he had promised to do but could never justify. He had always been too weak to protect him. Dante's fingers curled around Rebel's for the first time in 18 years in absolute receiving. Unfastening his eyes he screamed a name at the top of his burning lungs. It didn't matter if his voice didn't carry. It didn't matter if Rebel's fingers were being pulled away from his tightly clutched grip. It didn't matter if he was losing hope, for he had instilled unbreakable faith. There was one person in his life who he could always count on to come and rescue him when he fucked up, like he always did.

Vergil heard Dante's call and rose from the confines of stagnation, "Dante!"


	7. Renditions

Vergil battled a rocky breathe with irrefutable toil as Dante's voice carols into his reach.

"Vergil".

Ceaseless scraping of determined fingertips are scratching his closed entries, a shadow on the horizon he sits single-mindedly, refusing to budge. Why won't Dante give up? What kind of brother shamelessly confesses to incestuous love, marriage, and even that ridiculous kiss, sending him into fiery rage, discomfiture, and utter humiliation? Vergil's deduction, his hounding sibling was wholly out of control and had to be stopped.

Avoidance intricately aligned with aversion hadn't quite worked, for the little devil had resorted to sliding pictures beneath his door as if they were blackmail material. The lacklustre crayon dabbling with rosy backdrops, varying from beaches to zigzagging mounts had been boldly deployed. Two distorted images with a bed of white hair had progressed from holding hands to evidently seated in a tree canoodling. Babe Vergil had destroyed the incriminating evidence by shredding the artwork into the safety of his bins in case his mother located the immoral and highly graphic images. Having a half-breed devil of a sibling by the name of Dante was by no means considered "normal", yet this relentless chase would have to come to an end.

Even at the rather undeveloped age of mere seven Vergil was well polished on the rights and wrongs of the human and demon realms. Kissing your brother, with your tongue, was distasteful. Suspecting he had been dropped on his head when he was a baby to have become this besotted. It was the only rational elucidation for a demented child that was pursuing him rather aggressively and he was too ashamed to inform his father about the current bizarre going on between his progenies. Even a smart child like him wouldn't know how to bring up this...sensitive subject. The errant kiss, albeit harmless, had been his breaking point. Dante's technique had been rather...good, affronted and whitening as he rutted a piece of paper he was scribbling sat on a minor version of his now classy desktop.

Vergil was formulating a plan that would ensure these problems come to an end speedily, opting not to ask for adult supervision and intervention. Turning a page for the curse he had found which would end his nightly suffering and ensure that their brotherly love remained intact as licit brethren. The enchantment was easy enough. All that was required was a sample of the evildoer's hair and a drop of their blood. This charm would get rid of the childlike feelings and borderline homosexual sentiments he may hold in his heart for him, brows lining at the designation 'homo-incestuous', crumpling. Vergil had to save his brother and himself from this grotesque designation.

Contrasting to alternative spells researched this one had been deemed the least precarious, for the caster could only eradicate one specific memory. The individual was relatively safe and unaltered otherwise. He didn't wish to murder his twin. The kiss had to be eliminated, the seed of all his problems and concerns as the accountable older brother of the aberrant and adamant child. Vergil was born "the premeditated type", which is why he had decided for a reduced hex. Prepared, he opened his door to find his naive target huddled and nuzzling 'the bear' that was prized whimsically. Toys were Dante's comfort. Vergil's were books of great wisdom and usage. Clad in identical blue pyjamas. Their mother Eva loved to dress her sons matching, finding the escapade crushingly cute. Vergil legalized admission.

"Come inside and stop sni-velling".

Vergil snatched a tissue from his desktop which he kept especially for this pest, cleaning the drippy nose crudely, throwing the infected rag into the basket that still contained last night's drop-off painting depicting them kissing on the moon, with the stars being witness. He hadn't had time to burn this one, like the others, more concerned about potential snot on his bed covers, obsessed with hygiene and personal sanitation. Dante's reddened face abided by all terms set. He had a nightmare and had no plans to return to his room, too alarmed to go back to sleep...cry baby.

Vergil filed his guidance notes and stored his pencil case, out of sight. The nightly intruder even dared to steal souvenirs from his room, annoyed, he soared onto his bed to lie down and execute his tactics. Dante followed, jumping up and scampering over the covers like a small lizard to lie on his designated side to the left…quietly. He was told off for yammering too much in the past impositions to have learned to behave remarkably well in the presence of his well-ordered twin. The rebellious nature that was so rampant within was altruistic for the one afore.

"Sto-vie" the soft demand.

Vergil was busy dividing their space by slipping a pillow between them. Dante was not allowed to cross this divide, wrapping the barrier with his arms and legs, snuggling it. Ballou squished under him, plump eyes peeking disbelievingly at his lips, hair shabbier than usual. Vergil caught the insolent stare fixed squarely on his mouth, to be precise, his lips. Dante sniggered remembering what he had achieved yesterday..."mission impossible". It had been a dream come true to have finally kissed Vergil and mark him with his tongue. They were officially called "lov-e-ers" and marriage would be the next logical step. Sparda and Eva, whom had been left out of the loop so far, would be receiving an invitation card through their doorstep when he had time to make one. The whole week he had been very busy gifting them to his lov-e-er.

Vergil didn't delay, plucking a white thread ruthlessly from the head of the one goggling him with immoral and divergent eyes.

Dante squealed "it hurts" rubbing his cluttered mane.

Vergil paused, in two minds, "you want to hear a story, don't you?"

The precious thread was wrapped like a string around a piece of paper that had been pilfered from under his father's careful radar. The Aramaic word for kiss had been stolen, slicing his finger to induce a paper cut to present the blood. They pooled indistinguishable DNA, so it was moderate to take the obligatory shortcut. Relieving his duty to try and take it from the little cry baby who had made such a ruckus for taking a thread of hair, contradicting, he didn't wish to hurt Dante. The little devil bobbed hastily, still clutching the side of his head.

Vergil sung "there was once a princess".

Dante grimaced, "something better".

Vergil lay down in bed, grasping the paper, "there was once a prince", to which Dante cuddled tightly.

"Who was searching the woods for a medication that would cure his mother's illness, who had fallen very ill"?

The paper singed and disappeared into his right palm as be uttered silently in Latin initiating the mantra.

Dante grew animated, "she looks like mommy" positive.

Eva did resemble a stunning Queen with that long golden hair of hers seated inside a palace, much like theirs.

"Where's daddy?" Eva's King was missing.

Vergil adjusted dramatically. "The King had died in a battle, months earlier, to potect the land".

Even with his accomplished learning there was still a child lurking within, thus the minor mispronunciation, not that the one listening would have ever noticed. Vergil was perfect in every way inside these fascinated gawks.

Dante was cross, "he...he diven't have demon-ich bluuge", eyes wide-open at the grave implications of battling war with no superpowers…nothing like their dad who could even kick Superman's ass. Tossing the soft dividing Porte, he gained momentum on his knees. 

"If he div he could fly and throw fi-ie-balls…dush...dush...dush", spitfires shelling and bombing Vergil's face, using Ballou as the spontaneous prop.

The elder hauled his excessively enthusiastic arm, forcing him to lie down beside him. He had to be asleep for the next part of the spell to conclude. Dante hushed as he got to lay closer to Vergil's tummy. Burrowing into him tactfully like a small rabbit, curling into a comfortable ball. Knees folded upwards still clasping the bear which had been misused. Vergil permitted the contact, for the very last time, gazing downwards at the soul which was deeply in love with him and was now sleeping serenely. He was dreaming once again and it wasn't the first time it had ensued. Body altering into his older self as the warm child clung to him, inseparable. The real story about their forgotten past always recurred inside these difficult dreams. Vergil used his powers to burn the piece of paper delivering into the sleeping child's ear.

"Forget our…kiss".

Dante raised his head, chiselled jaw prodding his nape as he quizzed. "Hey...did I sneak into your room at night..." sliding his rugged legs amid his and holding forcefully, wrapping his stomach.

Vergil had refused to answer the question that had plagued his intelligence. For someone so learned he was purified mute. It had been a meek plan, from an unassuming mind. If the kiss was disremembered, so would the illicit emotions connected with it that were spreading like wildfire. Perhaps, he had become afraid of him after that pure osculation, for it had made his heart strangely ache. Whatever his childish reasons had been, tampering with another's passions had been a grave error and fault on his part. A critical blunder, he had neither rectified, nor remedied. Carrying the secrets of what he had done to his little brother at the back of his mind. Like a scab slowly undoing and growing. What had that spell done? What had he done to Dante?

Vergil had been the only silent witness to the subtle changes transpiring inside his twin's heart. How odd that one can be so close to another being to view these renditions, while others, even closer, had all but missed the sign's. After that day, after that spell, he slept through the nights unaided, never interrupting his daily routines. It was as if Vergil and he had never shared an intimate cradle. With each passing day he had grown more and more indignant, desperately restless. Vergil observed from a safe distance, like a spectre, questioning. Credibly, these changes were a sign that Dante had simply matured, for the better. Refusing to accept, he was the one who had been responsible for displacing a crucial part. A piece was missing. The scales of truth were hard to balance. Right and wrong could be difficult to translate in a world so duplicitous and forged. Life's renderings, he had no answers for.

Adolescence was a transition they both undertook alone. His twin had simply changed into a bad-tempered adult with no real happiness, replicating his unexceptional friends, beleaguered by material possessions, needs, and wants. So why it was that Vergil felt that angry stare burning his flesh, time and time again, tugging at his consciousness? As he walks through these bustling corridors, as he eats alone in the vivacious refectory, as he studies in the school library. Even through the private windows of his bedroom and the blessed suppers shared as a family. Veiling unconcern but painstakingly aware. Dante openly glared at him, at all times. Why did this accusatory stare roam his flesh and soul searching for that stolen part? Audaciously lighting up a cigarette, breaking all rules, swarmed by others, yet so very lonely in his disposition…stands his reflection. Vergil watches his image like an ignorant passer-by. They can't avoid each other's tall figures, sky-high, over the other ill-disciplined novices that flock to his doubles sides. That unwavering contemplation which stalked his every move was, only and only, ever directed at him.

Vergil's eyes would collide and meet those smoky blues, head-on, as everyone else became a blur of poignant imageries. It was only they who were standing still…invariable. Did he feel culpability? On no account…in the long run it had been the right decision…acquitting him of all past wrongdoings, clearing past Dante who by now was an ample stranger…an outcast. The altered red devil scoffs rudely and encourages his friends to whisper gossip about the illusive and detached perfect student that was he. Vergil had lost his brother...long ago.

Would he have been a different person had he left him to his own devices, uninterrupted...unaltered? Opening his locker to the schools changing rooms to discover the paper smeared in blood, practiced fingers reaching out for the enchantment, uncertainly gasping it. Once a spell was bid it cannot be reversed, that is the curse of black magic. It was too late to inform his younger self of the consequences of dealing with dark powers...bordering silent regrets, with supreme resistance.

So how did they get here?

Vergil mused as he stained Dante's hair in sludge, much to his delight. This moment was evocative of their sweetened childhood. Frisky eyes smiling at him in clear recognition as he told a new tale to compensate for all the years he had embezzled. Dante pined in assiduous armistice. Vergil had never seen that replicating face so...vied. That dazzling full smile surfaced and flooded only for his lordly courtesies. This close intimacy between them was nothing new as Dante scraped his face incessantly with obstinate caresses and brimming regards. He had missed these touches. He had missed those intervallic dusks. He had missed these unpredictable puffs blowing amid his lips. They were both full of contradictions. This was the despairing face of love in all its throbbing clarity.

Vergil wanted to forget what couldn't be undone to find he was trapped once more inside the loving kiss that he had so desperately tried to bury. Dante's rims had unsealed and found him over. Sucking, slurping, and swallowing. Mouth starved, figure thirsting. Dante tunnelled deeper and deeper searching for what he had mislaid, his innocence, his desires…his simple minded love for one person in his life. The fundamental piece for his very existence...Vergil had always been the missing part, these thorny dealings between them that appeared as a trivial river ran deeper then all four oceans over. The deeper they delved. The darker the ocean becomes. There was no way out. Who could understand these drowning currents better then Vergil who was sinking deeper into the pits of these never-ending recollections? Dante pulls him beneath, limbs snarled, as he tries to flee for a needed breathe only to be rapt ruthlessly. Forms joined in one womb.

"Do what you want with me", the melancholy say behind crystal eyes.

They are still curled in his bed, naked, and bound, to one another. Dante's warm breathes and lips press into his collars, eyelashes covered in warm dewdrops which singe his skin. Why was Dante crying? Vergil swathes the covers around their bare flesh, long arms encircling, fingertips pressing into Dante's unkempt mane and gently roaming towards his eyes...catching his tears. He rocks and soothes him inside his arms. Lips squeezed, Vergil bowed his head over his twin's soft brow in defeat. He had cruelly burned what was most sacred to Dante. He had scarred his brother with an invisible cut that lingered his own flesh…forever accountable...forever troubled.

"Forgive me...it was not my choice to make" he quietly repented, with all his heart, opening the piece of paper inside his palm. It was the drawing of the two of them fixed in space. He had pieced this one together and stored it beneath his bed, adopting the childish approach of the one who had most certainly left his irreparable marks over him. He too was incontrovertibly in love…foolish.

"Vergil", was Dante's forgiving kiss as their lips impressed, breaking away from the unyielding cycle of languid dreams, melded with frantic thoughts...awake.

Yamato's spell was disentangling under the imperceptible bond that was not only snaring Dante but always had Vergil in its clasps, weary eyes gazing towards his unoccupied chest. Huffing, he raised his trembling figure with extreme grace, chest squeezing painfully. When had he felt such weakness, reaching for his blade which was oddly absent? Yamato had left his bedside to attend to more urgent matters, having misjudged her master's sudden arousal.

"Mato", he beckoned, stumbling out of bed and onto the ground. His legs had given way, senses tingling, his devil stirred by the scent of blood. Vergil clutched the bedpost and heaved his body up.

"Ifrit", he breathed, managing to stand but there was no answer.

Vergil rested and enclosed his naked physique with the black silk robe slipped neatly over his chair. Mato had left it for him. Ifrit didn't answer for he was still caught in the intoxicating sleeping spells that had also affected him. Vergil faltered a few steps and recovered poise. The drugs had all but left with the last twinkling of vivid dreams. Teleporting towards the source of the commotion situated regrettably in the cellar. Perplexed to find the unbreakable vault had been left wide-open. Only he had access to these hazardous chambers. Clutching the steel doors he entered the gore ridden scene which could only be described as carnage. Two glorious wolves were casing a heavily bleeding body from his sight, senses adjusting to the bleached marble and the ones pampering their hungry compulsions. Rebellion lay sprawled a few feet away... igniting Vergil's violent temper. The cold rage etched over his fiery expression doubled as the feeding wolves raised their heads, displaying their fangs to reveal who they were intrepidly consuming.

Ivory dripped puzzled, "another one" at the exactitude of the one bordering their exits, ears twitching inquisitively.

Ebony grumbled a lesser greeting to the newest prey, "another weakling".

Vergil's expressionless face was distorted in ire, "you...dare". The low say was pronounced with bloodthirsty eyes as they crusaded towards Dante's mutilated flesh, "to have done...this?"

Ebony snarled poison "we will slaughter every member of Sparda's house". Prowling towards his next victim, instinctual, this one may be stronger of the two, hairs bristling, muzzle crinkled, "join his fate", dashing to attack.

Ivory joined his brother's confident strides, flanking to prevent escape as Vergil crouched to the floor, out of breathe, head lowered. A sparrow of razor edges winged behind him as he raised with malicious energy that could only be described as dark powers of the most potent kind. The blades flew and rained down on the dancing wolves which sprung, leaped, and hopped, to prevent the formidable air raid. Their skill and powers were in par having reigned supreme in fierce and often malicious mêlées. Breathes and nostrils flared having sensed this could be a real fight. Ebony pounced on Vergil's frame colliding with Ivory who had acted equally. Teleporting was Vergil's art, appearing above their heads and crushing down on Ivory's abdomen that was slower of the two in getting to his lithe paws. Leaping in reverse as Ebony's teeth clamped shut inches from his torso, provoked.

"Stand up", the canine exploded, thrashing Ivory's paw with his incisors leaving him barking loudly, unbridled irritation blowing up on the inferior wolf for having been made to look like a fool. The pointless bout slowing their impassioned progress as one of the hundred stinging blades lodged in Ebony's right limb that showed little resistance to its puncture. Guileless, he catapulted using the walls to run a circle around the open arena in a bid to flush Vergil out who was at this point focused on counterbalancing the Alpha. The vicious chase was on.

Ivory limped to his feet, straining to keep up as the speed and number of blades rocketed. Vergil used them as his safety net to get close enough to disable the wolf that was keeping up with his pace, wielding two tightfitting vanes inside his proficient hands, ready to strike. Ascending the walls like a seraph, rising higher towards the spiralling ceiling to reach their lofty domes. Vergil clutched the walls like a spider in waiting, keeping an eye on Ivory from above.

Ebony's furious cobalt light warped beside him with lightning speed's clamping down on his left arm…as manoeuvred. The hurting bite was compulsory. Vergil wanted close proximity to inflict his next move. He had to strike the wolf in its core vital points to render it immobile. He had learned about their flaws and faults until he could recite them. Vergil would never undertake an erroneous task unprepared. The end results would always be what he computes, striking the canine's spine, between the shoulder blades. Revolving as Ebony snapped madly. Thrusting a second blade a few inches below the first, wrapping himself around the lashing wolf for the third and final blow. They were hurtling from the skies as he jabbed the concluding rapier into the sprites lower spine, crushing the nerves. The wolf whined in ache and debasing overthrow, thudding to the floor making a hefty crater.

Vergil huffed and wiped his brow as the slaughtered canine lay stationary beneath him, abdomen panting in effort. Ebonies orbs twitched and enlarged as he tried to rise, howling, he stared at Ivory who was seeing stock-still. The wolf's bloody paw had stopped his plight. It hurt to walk, let alone run, worn-out from skirting and ducking the callous blades that had come to a stoppage in the air. Ebony barked irrepressible commands.

"Kill him...kill him" the ear-splitting growl.

Vergil lifted away, hands fortified with fresh razorblades. He had no time to waste, repudiating his eyes from floating towards the two that were closing death. Emotions were exorbitant. Logic and calm his ultimate approach. "Submit", he signalled to the unmoving wolf whose expression had lost all preceding ferociousness, stepping over Ebony whom lay comatose. Razor blades airborne, influencing terror and dread from his very presence. Even without his prime weapons Vergil was by no means easy to take down, sapphire eyes matching his concentrated intent as he strode closer, the black robe heightens his dangerous demeanour. Sparda's elder son replicated his father's devilish aura a little too well.

Ivory stammered back and forth, pacing, as if he was confined to the cages again. Tail tucked, fearful, wanting to flee. Ebony raised unnoticed and pounced on Vergil from behind. The concentrated points he had so punctiliously inflicted, had missed by a mark. He had made a rare mistake. Vergil rolled over, gnashing and clutching Ebony's mane as he lowered his head around his throat, teeth penetrating skin when he was tugged rearwards.

Ebony roared, "I-vo-ry" losing blood. The piercing blades riddling his frame hadn't shattered.

Vergil clutched them and embedded them deeper into the bleeding wolves flesh, goring the white pelt as the tug of war continued.

Ivory limped forward anxiously as if in answer. What happened next? No one could have possibly anticipated. Ebony's abdomen was gauged by a vicious passing bite that sent him crashing off Vergil. The timid wolf that had perpetrated the final blow turned his head to meet his brother's overcome eyes.

"No" was the simple falling out.

Ivory made his courageous escape, breaking all bonds that had tied him down for so long and repressed his very existence. He was ready to embark this world, alone, then to have someone beside him who had done nothing but tear him to pieces. Vergil tried to stop the absconding wolf with a shower of blades. Ivory used the remainder of his stealth to demonstrate his exquisite mannerism in avoiding being struck. The agilities and attributes to why others sought them so very badly. Felines weren't the only ones who could describe Godly grace. 

Ivory was a blur of white light which the elevated blades could never catch up to, the quest for freedom voracious as he broke free and rushed the silent hallways. The wolf crashed through the windows, touching down on the gravel and into the bewitching world that had been brutally closed away, the rain, the clouds, the thunder, the spoors, filling his starved lungs making him throw his head back and howl loud enough for the entire world to hear his hearts triumph when someone else interrupted his final paces in the direction of liberty. Cerberus was standing in his path.

"Who goes there?"

The dog emerged in a misty mountain of frozen ripples and icebergs, which was the exact size he had chosen to introduce himself, having judged his challengers aura, glaring down at Ivory whom resembled but a tiny ant.

"You cannot escape" the pivotal outcome.

This guard dog couldn't afford another failure, "surrender" heads burgeoning into threatening three.

Ivory leapt to avoid a shard of ice the size of a mountains edge from spearing him, snarling. This wild canine had reached a point of no return. The garden was awakened as the non-battling sprites watched on in utter amazement as yet another fight begun in full swing.

Vergil watched quietly as Ebony stood on trembling limbs visibly broken, the betrayal still lingering in the air, gazing at the door before locking deserted eyes with Vergil.

"Die", he tousled bitterly, rushing towards him to be struck by tresses of silk that cut deeper than the searing blades. Mato fused in front of Vergil, covering every inch of his body with her fluid dress, beholding an angel in the bloodbath that was the stained room. The superb wolf was dangling off the floor inside her hold. Her fingernails were embedded inside his stunning mane approaching a lions. Ebony had damaged greatly by this crushing stage. Mato was unsmiling, eyes inexpressive as she pressed. The suffering of the beast foretold by the jerking legs that were breathless for air as she ruthlessly closed the canals to his lungs. Vergil intervened before his blade could slay.

"Seal him" the interceding command.

Yamato did not catch in her rage, applying surplus force to the battling wolf.

Vergil was angered for having to repeat his commands "seal him...Mato".

Yamato substituted and flung Ebony into his steel enclosure which shut mechanically. This big, bad wolf, was going nowhere with these excessive wounds. Vergil as a final point gazed at the two who were making his heart pulse faster than he could regulate. Every inch of his body was now on the borders of disquiet and distress as he quietly marched towards them. Modifying his instable feelings to ensure he continued calm to reduce error. Bending down on one knee Dante was the first to be hauled into his arms, laying a cheek above his lips to catch his uneven breathes. Vergil sliced his neck with his fingernail clasping Dante's floppy head and pressing his parted mouth to his perforated neck, the elder's eyes ached in hurt and suffering as he clasped tightly...wordless.

Dante's rims had to swallow his plasma to ignite what lay dormant within. The remedial elixir belonging to Vergil trickled into Dante's faded being, sanctifying and reminding his essence to rekindle its magical properties. It was how he had healed his previous wounds…by exhausting himself. Eyes lidded, sighting Dante's closing wounds but not stopping to bleed himself out, reaching his bodies limits but avoiding the wound from closing. Vergil's vision was clouding as he tested Dante's flesh to the point of obsession, paranoid, making sure the blood had stimulated to cure all his cuts. It was working. Laying his brother over his lap Vergil stretched to reach for Rebellions hand, dragging his body on his abdominal, turning him over and laying his head beside him.

Yamato observed tranquilly, reminiscent of a flower caught inside a snowstorm. She couldn't believe her eyes at the size and growth of the one she thought she had put to eternal sleep. For all her deceptions, her intricate plans, the reward was nothing but dread. It was only a matter of time until her master learned the truth about her and when he did there was no denying what he would to do, seeing the reality of her actions in all their horrible clarity. Her love had bought her on a road to ruin. How she had fallen from his side. Watching Rebel being pulled closer to Vergil then she could ever dream of, unable to control herself she voiced in error.

"Your blood will not save him...he belongs to...Dante", stopping in her trails.

Vergil opened Rebel's mouth in answer, temples coiled, "he belongs to me...and I will not let him die".

The strong regards never came her way. The quiet reply devastated her. Her master had alternative weapons but he had never made any of them his own, nor shared his blood, except with her. She was his one and only. Sinking her head, subdued. The world had been taken from under her very feet. From the day she had come into existence she had done nothing but worship him. For Vergil was worth all the reverence in the world. All that she had learned, touched, and felt, was for her master. Rebel was taking his side, enduringly...substituting her? How could this be? Her dejected eyes sustained to watch over him so no harm would ever inflict him? What about the harm she had instigated? Even sprites believed in the motions of Karma bequeathed by the orderly Universe that operated under God's indestructible law. Her punishment had only just begun.

Vergil didn't treat Rebel any differently in his curing techniques. Detaching the mask he pried his mouth open and sliced his wrist over Rebel's protruding tusks. Lifeblood was imparted into the temperate sprites rims. Vergil didn't know if this would work. He had never shared blood directly with a devil arm when it was in its essential form. Hybrid blood was the rarest of all kind. The only research available on its dualistic properties was being conducted privately by Sparda inside his authorised laboratories. He knew of its precious qualities and would never allow another mortal or demon to ever get a whiff of it.

Vergil had no alternatives, cleaning Rebel's neck to examine the bulging tear which was remarkably sealing. He lowered to lean on his exerted elbow. His body saying no more, fatigued. Mato drifted to his side. She bent on her laps to offer her provisions. Vergil rose away from her before his crown could touch her cloth. Yamato understood. Vergil had already learned of her deceit. He was clever. How could she think he wouldn't have known that she was the only one who could have broken down the codes to these vaults? Awaiting his verdict, which never came? Yamato shifted to stand and guard. The spell she had cast on Dante's body had come undone. This quiet storm of uncertainty was insufferable.

Vergil sucked in air to ease his bodies mounting discomposure, stopping the flow of blood to allow his plasma to rejuvenate, nearing collapse. He would have to bandage the remainder of Rebel's wounds that hadn't quite closed. Vergil's hands, body, skin, and clothing were covered in so much blood that even his hair was discoloured. He was drained, glaring at the mess which he was answerable to clean up as the head of their family. He had no time to rest, laying both of them gently to the floor so that he could stand. Yamato kept her distance even when he struggled pained.

"Rebel", he called and waited.

Rebel respired and curled, even as he lay unconsciously he submitted to all of Vergil's demands. The rapier transformed into steel for easy passage. Vergil clutched in his right hand which Mato used to clip, lifting Dante's body with his left and flinging him over his shoulder. Vergil addressed her indifferently.

"You are to sleep in the weapons chamber, until I call for you".

Mato was mute, "as you wish", the placid answer.

Vergil treaded away without as much as an addressing gaze. Mato watched with eyes that had never known the true face of heartache and loss. She had been left behind…unable to follow after. Is this what Rebel had tasted...sadness and rejection? She had smiled and demeaned him at every turn. Who was the weaker of the two? Rebel had endured silently for a lifetime what she could not swallow for mere seconds. Yamato stared at the endless blood that adorned the white room, yet she was the one who felt so very impure...sealing the chamber. Her mislaid figure drifted into quiet fragments of white petals towards the imprisonments of the armaments room. For the first time in years Mato would spend an introverted night here. Why hadn't he asked her for eternal sleep…seating on the floor in utter isolation? Mato sunk in sorrow. The fate of the accomplished katana was masked in turbulence as she whispered her master's name in solace.

"Vergil", her costly blood tears cradled her broken eyes.

The blue devil struggled to carry Dante, pausing for a break as he treaded unevenly into his room, laying the heavy cargo onto his bed, not caring for the blood that splattered his spotless white sheets. Rebel was placed beside him. Vergil turned to the doors and cast a seal so no other would cross this threshold. Yamato had roused his suspicions. The blade that he had cared for so lovingly may have betrayed his trust. If this was the case, he would have to find a way to confine her safely until he had decided what to do next. Mato knew each and every part of the Sparda mansion and all of its hidden secrets. He couldn't allow her to fall into the wrong hands. Yamato was dangerous in more than one way, calculating the costs, evenly.

"Rebel", he whispered.

Longs legs stretched over his bed, spreading further blood and gore. Vergil retrieved the previous cloth he had used to aid healing from his cupboard. The Goldstar was pulsating within the fabrics. Vergil shredded the cloth into makeshift bandages. Tying one around his still bleeding neck, the other shreds were applied to his upper and lower body including his ankles where he had been dragged. Pausing when he noticed that Rebel's fingers had clasped Dante's again. It was noteworthy, even though Dante had vetoed ownership Rebel had shown up to protect his brother...by his own free-will. How could this be? Vergil had never believed that sprites could share intimate human temperaments. They were all a means for serving a simple purpose, questioning his logic, shredding the left over bandages to clean Dante's riddled skin to review his progress. Only minor scratches remained…reassured, fetching face unwinding its tense creases. Vergil glided towards his window which was exposed. He locked and caught whining from further down, slapping the back of his palm to his forehead, exasperated, as another trampled carcass was about to be added to his budding list.

"Idiots", he voiced his disappointments.

"Enter" sighing heavily and rubbing his weary forehead. He was going soft.

A frosty and shaken puppy collapsed on his rug, spotting it with patches of fresh blood. The fight that had undergone in their absence had been a one-sided battering for old Cerberus who had clearly lost his touch since he hadn't been in a scuffle for as long as he could remember. Ivory had handed his ass to him.

Vergil gazed outside to review the aftermath to their exquisite botanical gardens, which had been ruined, sullen. "Mother", he stated. It was Vergil's turn to usher Eva's name, the lines reforming over the bridge of his nose. He was truly hemmed in by a bunch of incompetent jesters. The delicate fairies were doing their best to restore the damages but even they were incapable to fix this huge mess overnight. Vergil lowered and wrapped the left over bandages to the soaking pup's head where he had received most of his injuries. Cerberus licked Vergil's fingers appreciatively, leaving them frostbitten.

"Don't", he chided severely rubbing them together as they healed.

Cerberus lowered his bandaged head, "forgive my...failures master".

Vergil returned briskly, "he couldn't have gone far".

Cerberus retorted, "no one else in the house heard my calls, they still sleep...is it not odd?"

Vergil wiped his bloodied fingertips, "they will wake at dawn" well-informed on the one whom could have cast a sleeping spell inside the mansion.

Mato's requests for the library had been for a specific purpose. He had taught her a bit too well, lamenting his decision to keep her so close. Vergil decided not to undo her enchantments. The last thing he wanted was further unrest and disarray. Order prevented chaos. Tough but fair decisions would have to be taught. Mato would serve as an example for the other devil arms.

Vergil headed into the showers, stripping his ruined robe to finally take care of him. He turned the taps slowly to be overcome by hot and steamy waters, emetic over his pastel flesh, both arms clasping the walls as blood glided into the whirling torrents. Disremembering the dream he had earlier. Vergil was wide-awake, recounting his methodical approaches in the dominions of practicality. This was who he was. Caprices were not actuality, and never could be. Two warm arms enveloped him, contradicting his trajectory of thoughts, matching hips pressing into his upended silhouette, lips kissing the back of his nape as Dante clutched him tightly as if this was everyday occurrence between their humid bodies which involuntarily shuddered in warmth.

"Hey bro" the croaky say, for he had just woken up, quite literally, and was still half-asleep.

Vergil opened his eyes, "leave", quietly defeated in the confines of these warm enclosures.

Dante clasped tighter, "I", pained, unable to let go, squeezing.

Head flopping abruptly onto Vergil's shoulder, "you", pressing gradually.

Vergil clenched, "leave...you are not in your senses", observant.

Dante didn't answer, chest heaving with his, "I...I had a...nightmare Verge, about you" unsure of where he was and where to start. His world was a blur.

Vergil's expression becomes softer from Dante's awareness. When was the last time he had heard these familiar verses, for they plaque his dreams not his daylights, staring at the trembling arms that were wrapping his abdomen tight enough to make his flesh ache. Vergil savoured suffocation. How he wished he could embrace his brother the way he did inside those dreams but this was the sad reality and appearances had to be kept, at all costs, masquerading his emotions. Vergil detached Dante's arms from around his trunk. The uncompromising look engaged as Dante viewed him visibly disoriented. Vergil turned off the showers and took a towel from the stand, drying roughly, and tossing it to the floor.

"You need to be in the Dojo for 6.00.a.m. You may sleep in my room for the night ...for I have some urgent business to take care of", parting.

Dante wrapped his wrist, "what"?!

"What business", trying to keep up.

"We need to talk...Mato has been..." worried.

Vergil cut-in, "draining my blood or life-force?"

Dante stood stumped, withdrawing his hand, "life-force...I think?"

Vergil raked his tresses, "I will deal with her" unfeelingly. "Is there anything else you wish to tell me about what happened", fastening a new white robe to conceal his flesh, adding another layer of exteriors.

The younger noticed and stood shaken. It was as if a barricade had been established between them. Or was it the drugs had...sighing and scratching his head, "she might have drugged me" rubbing his sopping face vigorously.

"I told her to slip drugs in your tea".

Leaning on the wall and doubling his arms cumbersomely as if they hadn't even touched moments earlier.

"I wanted revenge".

Open about his previous crimes. That had all been frankly long forgotten.

"And...I-ah...Rebel"...averts Vergil's eyes.

This act had been his top most shameful crime, trying to find the right words for his dumbest moments imaginable. Dante had awoken when Rebel had clasped his fingers long enough to make his hand a little numb. Beaming when he saw the dressings knowing who had come to their joint rescue and who now stood as a perfect stranger. How could Vergil alternate so rapidly...it was like being caught inside a drifting tide? How were they supposed to behave exactly, clueless…continuing the trail of events as best as he could.

"Mato told me to put him to sleep in exchange...to drugging you...that kiss was", halting.

"I was...fucked" rebuffing his newfound emotions.

Their distant eyes connected. Dante was trying his best to give a detailed account of what had happened, while he could. His steps had drawn him towards the sound of the showers. He hadn't been thinking when he had embraced his brother, realising how inappropriate the gesture had been. Even the kiss they shared seemed unreal since the other didn't even bother addressing it. Vergil's unblinking eyes gave away nothing making Dante feel strangely empty, distant, and secluded.

"Guess you know the rest right", shrugging his shoulders as if he didn't care.

Vergil's gaze was a reminder that things hadn't altered, one bit, between them...strangers, swallowing the knot that formed inside his biting gorge. This strange one-sided attachment had materialised over a singular night...was...all in his head. He felt unimportant and stupid thinking about the rollercoaster of emotions he had felt. Vergil exited to get changed leaving Dante standing alone with his divided thoughts. Why did he feel rejection? Had his brother just brushed everything under the carpet like it never happened? Yeah, he did just that, amused. Vergil really didn't give a fuck if he would have died inside that empty room...laughing quietly at his stupidity for thinking any differently.

"Fuck this" shaking his head, disillusioned?

"What the fuck was I...thinking" chest squeezing.

Why was he acting like a chick who had just been deserted, irritated by his own resentful mood. He didn't want to hear and concede that he may have developed 'feelings' for this hard-hearted prick. Was he actually fucking worried about this cold-blooded bastard? All the nice girls whose hearts he had broken came to mind, looks like they had all prayed together to curse his sorry ass with the worst kind of omen. Alex's annoying face flashed before his eyes with that equally annoying slogan.

"Like fuck I am..." pissed at himself, pacing in angst, slipping and skidding to ultimately fall hammily on his ass, trying to get back up but he couldn't.

He had been so eager to see Vergil he had forgotten about his on 'the road to recovery body'. Even devils had their limits, gasping the towel that Vergil had discarded, drying his face, brows creasing, he inhaled the lingering scent…it was...this guy's...comforted, clasping the towel tighter. Vergil was staring down at him having heard the auspicious bang. Dante's cheeks blossomed.

"Please kill me", the muffled prayer to his maker.

Vergil's glare intensified. "What are you doing...lunatic" the new designation was going to stick as the preferred abuse tag.

Dante flung the towel, "drying myself. You got a problem with that?!"

Mortified at having been caught "sniffing" again and being a very bad liar, at that. He would have to get better at both things if he was going survive the ongoing game that had sadly re-instated.

Vergil eyed unkindly, "nuisance", raising him upwards by his waist and helping him towards the safety of his, by now, derelict bed.

Dante hobbled, reluctantly clutching Vergil's mid-riff for support that had changed into his combat clothes. He was planning on hunting Ivory before the night was over. Dante couldn't help peering at his ghostly skin. The bags under Vergil's eyes were transparently noticeable. He looked fragile. How much blood had he drained to save him? Dante stopped walking before he touched down on the bed where Rebel lay quietly. Staring at his devil arm who had imparted a lesson in devotion and selflessness just like...Vergil tugged but Dante refused to shift. Like hell he would go to bed and sleep while he was out in the middle of God-knows-where looking like a zombie corpse, decided.

"You're sleeping too right", eyes squeezed with determination, pride forgotten.

"If so I'll go to bed", the dare.

Vergil's jawline compressed, "did I not say I am leaving" incensed. This was a waste of his precious time when a dangerous devil arm was at present prowling the boulevards.

Dante held his ground, "we're all fucking sleeping after a very long fucking...day", uttered low and disruptive.

Cerberus raised his head at the double *F* bombs that had been dropped in the elders presence, rather brazenly. In all past dealings with the scoundrel that was Dante he had never seen such a courageous and rather gritty facial expression, fascinated. Even he had to agree master Vergil should not be leaving alone in his depleted state and at this late hour. The blue devil was in no mood for this silly little tantrum, pulling to find Dante had wrapped the wooden bed beam with one arm, messy head resting on the wood. Maddened, Vergil thrust harder to find the monkey had bound his entire body around the pole and was yanking his hand in reverse. Cerberus hoisted to his unsteady feet unsure which team to join in this current tug of war, superseding a little.

"Master Vergil. Please rest. I will track the..."

"Quiet" the abrupt say.

Dante was wheezing heavily but refused to quit his cause, "just come to...bed..." clenching, forearm stretched. He tried to manoeuvre Vergil towards the covers, as if this would determine the winner of this miniature battle.

Rebel stirred from sleep as the bedpost and its foundations quaked. He rose quietly and rubbed both eyes to find he was caught in the middle of a very unusual fight, glancing at Vergil then Dante. Dante then Vergil...muddled. Dante saw his opening. He knew where his blades true alliance was. Totally wrong and inexplicable alliance but it was there.

"Rebel, help me", puffed out of breathe, he couldn't hold out any longer. Vergil might tear his limbs off, knuckles white.

The rightful owner voiced, "Rebel, seize him, and make sure he doesn't leave this room".

Rebel lowered his head and stared at Vergil, the specks aligning his bright eyes were illuminating blue, the sprite raised and materialised beside his owner in reply, elevated above him. Dante's eyes enlarged. It was over. Two on one was more than he could handle right now and he still required the usage of his limbs.

Vergil was bewildered to find he had been raised in the air and was now dangling over Rebel's shoulder while still grasping Dante's hand. It took everyone, including him, a few seconds to comprehend what had just happened. He had been procured. If this illustration had been painted in the Resurgence passé it would have mystified even the most sharp-witted of minds to deduce this peculiar canvas. Two naked men had him bound in the middle, sceptical. Vergil's lips closed shut when he caught joviality. Dante was laughing his ass off having gained the upper hand, letting go of his fingertips, slowly but surely.

"Put him to bed, baby", the "finish-him" directive to which Rebel passed Vergil into bed, laying him down quietly.

The dusky plaits osculated his owner's forehead as Rebel slanted his head in quest of forgiveness. Taking Vergil's hand and laying it to rest above his heart. Rebel's eyes were acutely submissive as a singular word erupted from his bursting rims, "rrr-ee-sst", the deep voice educed what Vergil had prescribed in his enervated state.

"Est", he recited louder and clearer enclosing both hands over Vergil's warm ones and delineating his fingertips. The elder was peeved. Rebel felt distraught when Vergil detached his hands only to find a warm bloody tear land over his bed sheet in riposte. Vergil bit the insides of his mouth when he saw them dripping from Rebel's insights that sensed he had done something bad.

Vergil calmed, "I will rest...do not cry" streaking the heavy tears with the back of his fingertips. His austere approaches were of no use to one so tender-hearted.

Dante trod on the bed sheets and came and sat down next to Rebel clumsily, "hey...I owe you an apology and thanks for..."

The spellbinding green orbs hovered onto his and Dante couldn't meet them, feeling like a total dud. He had fallen in his own eyes having remembered his previous bastardly ways. How would he make things up to his knife-edge when it didn't even belong to him? He had left it too late to make amends. Rebellion had almost died from negligence and abandonment, thanks to him. Verge was clearly a better match, smiling; he had forgotten he was the only fucking failure here.

"Sorry...for being such a fuck-up" affectionately ruffling Rebel's hair and vacating the bed.

Rebel gripped his wrist, "est".

He lowered Dante back tugging hard enough to make him fall, headfirst, onto Vergil's lap who was still sat hostile, colliding with his balls, fracturing them. One must know that although healing blood recovers all wounds the pain is very, very, real. One must also be aware that Dante's tough skull was like a hardboiled tower of strength. The elder could only grunt valiantly. All men around the world shuddered and saluted Vergil for handling pains that would have sent most menfolk buckling to their knees. He endured for his blade to prevent additional tears. For a sprite, blood tears were exorbitant. Unlike humans they couldn't afford to shed these to their hearts desire. Blood tears reduced a sprites lifespan and no one knew by just how much.

Dante couldn't move from his current precarious location since Rebel hadn't let go of his head, easing his fingers away when he didn't move, smiling slightly at the two of them together revealing his extended fangs.

Rebel emptied the bed and greeted Cerberus with a caress of his forehead, reviewing his injuries delicately. The grumpy Cerb had kept this youngster safe for as long as he could remember. Unbeknownst to the other members of his household they had become the best of friends. Cerb had doted over the youngest sprite who was finally reaching maturity. Demon bonds were twice as strong. Cerberus sniffed and inspected all of Rebel's wounds knowing who had caused these serious injuries, licking the tip of the youth's muzzle the way a father would do to his only son.

"I will avenge you" the promised oath.

Dante and Vergil watched from above moved by the kind say and solicitude. Who said demons had no loyalty or emotional sentiments. Sparda had surrounded his sons with the sprites that were fitting for his unique family. These devil arms were the elite. Like him, they defied all laws, logics and bounds, transcending higher than their obligated reasons for existing. Dante's arm curled over Vergil's lap as he observed carefully. Some of Sparda's important says had never quite sunk in but this moment stirred his heart, eyes drawn to his magnificent blade. Rebel was captivating and he couldn't help but stare. Why hadn't he noticed him before, all those years of passive neglect was washing over.

"I want him back" sighed in heavy regret.

Vergil gazed down, "impossible, after your previous failures and what you did to him...you are simply not good enough to wield him".

Dante rolled over, "let's make a bet then", arms folding leisurely behind his head. "If I beat the blades test tomorrow and seriously train...for the rest of the week. Pass my exams. I get Rebel back", eyes shining.

Vergil viewed as Rebel sat quietly beside Cerberus. "No" the final answer.

Dante eyed his face, "I swear on my life I will look after him...just give me another chance Verge."

Vergil was not moved by the dialogue, "do you have any idea how breakable you have left him. Do you think you deserve a second chance?"

Dante breathed "teach me..." hell-bent.

He was ready to take on real responsibility, instead of running away from it. He would do what it takes...to earn Rebel back...to be a better person. It was a pledge he had made when Rebellion had clasped his fingers. The red devil had found his purpose and unswerving drive for a crash course into his demonic heritage and there was no way he was going to fail.

Vergil gazed outside silently. When was the last time Dante had shared his bed? How had the mood softened to equal that of the cascading moonlight? The showers had subsided. The repercussions of a storm always ignited the most peaceful of nights. The chirping of the crickets arose as they enjoyed the sentient nightfall. He observed the twinkling of fireflies as the fairies used their light to replenish the gardens and sprinkle new seeds in gentle murmurs. Rebel rose to view the commotion, fingers circling the windowsill to trace the golden orbs that were multiplying, absorbed, the demonic fireflies dazzled, blindingly beautiful. Fingers seized Vergil's dipping hair and heaved the waves backwards. Dante was still awaiting his answer.

"Give me a chance" stubborn.

Vergil reassessed, "if you can defeat me in a sparring session. I will reward you Rebel".

Dante's eyes squeezed, "alright, but I can use any means necessary since you obviously have a head start".

Double-dealing would have to be deployed. There was no way in hell he would win in a fair fight. Best part was Vergil would never play dirty. It was a win-win situation.

Dante remembered...them, "what's the deal with our old man imprisoning two pissed off wolves in the basement and how comes I'm the only one who doesn't know about it?"

Scratching his chest, out of habit, thinking it was the tattoos but Vergil had rendered their use obsolete. The elder detached his hand to review his flesh, making sure the blood was functioning normally. The grazes faded. Dante caught the apprehensive stare Vergil was worried about him a little hint that things had changed irreversibly, even his hair and body was being dried with the clean portions of the sheets, secretly grinning.

Vergil lectured "as with all matters…our father believes they will be a great asset to our home. They have proved to be...stubborn", completing with a curve of his signature brow knowing this trait was shared by the one lounging.

Dante smirked and poked the scowl in the middle of his forehead, "am gonna make them mine and use them to beat you...you dig", puffed-up.

His deceitful plan was to recruit ALL available devil arms for their final battle, the stronger the better. He had taken quite a liking to the badass wolves and if they were on his side the enormous task was somewhat achievable. It was the only way to defeat the most difficult and final boss setting that went by the name of Vergil. Multiple health items would be required too, mainly food, when his cheeks were squeezed together by lenient fingers despite his rather conspiratorial pursuits.

"You are not permitted entry to those quarters", vexed. "One of them has escaped and I intend to bring him back."

Vergil lowered over him, "you are utterly incompetent".

Dante simpered under heavy criticism "just try and stop me" voice and say fading from their sudden closeness.

He had never known comfort like this…rising just a little with the intention of skimming his brother's nose when...what was he doing again? Pausing blank, he leaned into Vergil's lips and touched them. The shudder that ascended was an eruption. A light had been struck. Dante pressed again a little to the right as Vergil flinched and tilted away, barring another caress. Angered, and on edge. He had let his guard down. The pretences and order he held so dear were crumbling and being breached by the one who wore no masks. Dante couldn't behave any other way. How could he resist what his spirit was urging? All these missing feelings were seeping back into his lifeless skin. Dante gripped Vergil with both hands pulling him close enough to view his breathes. The other refused to comply trying to rise from his steely clasp before their lips could touch and ignite a wild fire he had suppressed. They both halted in surprise when tiny light bulbs started to flicker all around them.

Dante exclaimed, "what the?"

Rebel had unsealed the locks to the windows to get a better look at those twinkling lights which were swarming in drones into their room. They were drawn to his shiny speckles, prickling his nose. These tiny stars flickered and ignited the dark chambers. Rebel smiled so sweetly at the petite intruders that Cerberus couldn't help but show-off. He puffed a few rounded breathes from his mouth. Demonic snowflakes rained to enchant a spectacular show of lights and tranquillity. Rebel's bandaging was seeping blood but he was too overjoyed by the unusual marvel to feel nothing but childlike elation.

Cerb shook his icy body unleashing mist that soared outside. The fairies gazed upwards, raising their hands to touch the flakes that were catching the moonlight, resembling shards of crystals, the sounds of their sweetened merriment booming and ricocheting as they warmed the element which shouldn't be here, thrilled, uplifted, and supremely jubilant. It was becoming a chain letter which was rising in glory, guiding varieties of florets in the air that had been trodden, propelling with their mouths so they would find the exposed opening to their beloved young Master's. Holding each other's hands they spun in glee to create gushes. When had they all had this much fun? Overhearing their laughter Rudra and Agni stirred from Mato's spell. Agni moved towards the interior garden via the kitchen entries.

"Brother, you hear that?"

Rudra was astounded. "I do...I do hear it Brother".

They couldn't believe their eyes. Neither sprite was allowed to display their powers in the open, especially when Vergil was about. Unable to resist they too wished to add a little finesse to this cluster of blossoms? They merged their bodies as one. The two heads joined to reincarnate a singular blade. The brothers created a whirlpool of wind and fire so that the snowflakes were tinted autumn. The surge of their joint energy awoke Ifrit who was the true wielder of this element. The gloves drifted from their confinements towards Rebel who had instigated this rainbow. He stroked Ifrit's light as he surged around his notable wounds. Ifrit hovered and singed his soaring figure. Rebel's cloths tingled and burned as the most loved sprite of this household was blessed for speedier recovery.

The gloves floated outside towards the ones creating a prosaic hailstorm to show them how it's really done. The lion's eyes sparkled and a vibrant conflagration was set free. These artistic surges ignited the pulsating petals, insects, and flakes in pleasing hues, fitting for his master's eyes. Mato was the only one who didn't tinge or impart her opulence. Shutting out the laughter of all those celebrating outside, for she was in unfathomable mourning. Ebony could hear the distant uproar of triumph and love. Whining deeply, the bloodied wolf lowered his head and seeped blood tears, his brother's betrayal had destroyed him.

Vergil and Dante were caught in a rapturous blizzard. How could they escape this divine flourish? Neither could deny it. Neither could avert it. All that could be done was to tread it, together. This time, Vergil allowed Dante to lower his head...all the way. Dante's stare deepened as he lifted his head and sealed their moist lips. Mouth widening into an O he breathed in Vergil's ethos, overcome, tongue rippling upwards to savour, shuddering. He was in love with this man. Dante needed this urgent confirmation that couldn't be erased or brushed under the carpet. Vergil yanked his hair making him grin. The tug of discouragement was useless. They both knew he would never stop chasing after what he wanted the most. Mato's question to him made perfect sense. He was fucking crazy in love...and it made no difference if the man before him was his brilliant brother.

Dante swallowed the truth whole and roamed fiercely, hands jerking Vergil's mane enticing retaliation and punishment for overstepping the bonds, crudely sucking his lips and even biting them knowing their flesh would heal...rebellious. All secret caresses between them would be eradicated by this blood which they pooled. Inside the beats of his pulsing heart, even his devil was desperately aroused. Skin on skin, breathe on breathe, quake on quake. Dante touched it all, without regrets, including, the unexplained moisture against his cheek, racy eyes gliding open. The smile vanished and so did the joy connected with it. His brother was crying, unbelieving, he rubbed the tear between his thumb...scared. He had hurt Vergil.

Dante mumbled anxiously "Verge...I didn't..." finally understanding the consequences of tainting their bond in the eyes of the one who relinquished control and stability. Why did he only ever think about himself? In a state of nerves he rested their foreheads collected, no words were suitable for the storm of emotions they were each handling. What could he possibly say to make things better?

"I think..." biting down on his tongue, stomach in knots "I'm in love...with you Verge".

Vergil's eyes opened. What Dante saw inside them was only heartache and pain as he took him inside the fortresses of his arms, cupping his jaw with a loving hand, Dante's eyes widened in shock as he parted his mouth and returned his kiss with unrelenting passion. Vergil's mouth and tongue were ravishing his. This kiss was not one-sided and had never been, stunned by what was taking place. Devil's growling in their confines as their human counterparts tried to retain control and trigger of the dangerously escalating situation. Dante couldn't keep up with Vergil's fiery pace. How many people had he kissed to find he had no technique...ruffled? The man he had secretly admired, the most, was accepting him in all his flaws, in all his failures, in all his weaknesses. The rift between them was dying as he hastily joined in to keep up, clutching Vergil's face unsteadily.

Their turbulent caress was both violent and overly gentle as the elder meticulously regulated the ebb and flow between the two until he couldn't breathe. Vergil had set his body on fire and he was burning from the inside. What was this excruciating thirst and ache? The blue devil unlocked their lips to shower his face with small kisses and affectionate nudge's. Dante stilled when he felt the jagged high cheeks graze the dips of his neck, the groomed mane rubbing against his flesh, distinguished hands teasing his spine...suddenly afraid. The assortment of petals that were by now heaping their hair and cradle in tinges of violet was a surreal mix of ethereal beauty. Was this real...anxious...what if it wasn't...frightened…out of his mind. Dante seized Vergil's combat vest to strip him, desperate to eliminate the lingering barriers between their roused fleshes when his hand was seized. Vergil raised his head and sung an all too familiar lullaby into his ear.

"Forget…our kiss Dante" faltering.

The light that had been rekindled was relinquished with a simple blow of words. The caster of this enchantment had simply reinstated what had come undone...betraying Dante...betraying himself. The younger could only glare in a confused daze. Was he being rejected after tasting absolution? Head collapsing backwards as a sting pierced his heart. This guy knew just how to break him apart. He never slept with the same person twice…excepting this cruel fucker. He remembered everything only to lose himself...all over again. Vergil was gazing downwards with hurting eyes as Dante tried to raise his body, tears shedding in toil, "you", his one and only accusation.

Vergil looked away, unable to meet his heated eyes. Dante clutched the bed sheets crushing the rosy petals, as he refused to comply with his bodies' desperate yearning...to sleep...to forget...to undo what was always out of his reach. "Vergil", he refused to forget, to lose, and to misplace. Warm hands covered his eyes, sealing them shut. Dante's chest heaved painfully but that tender hand was too much to bear as his lips were kissed for the final time, ending his inner struggles. This memento of love, just like the ones before it, would be lost. Dante's hands lost their grip over the sheets. Vergil lifted the problematic bundle into his abdomen and soothed his hair, imprinting his forehead with another loving caress, spreading the tears still streaking his face, replicating his dreams.

"Forgive me" the elders quiet aching.

Rebel had watched the painful scene with closed palms. He had finally caught a firefly inside of them, watching the one who had adopted him, out of pity, and the one who may have already forgotten his pledge to win him back. Rebel could never replace Mato as Vergil's supreme blade and Dante didn't want him. He just wanted everyone to be happy. Treading closer to Vergil's bedside Rebel sat down on the floor and opened his hands to reveal the biggest and brightest one he had caught, sharing. Vergil's moist eyes caught it on the back of his hand as it re-joined the encircling swarms of colour. Rebel touched the bed sheet where Dante's tear had fallen. He seeped it into his skin where it glinted and merged with his golden flesh, it was precious. Vergil didn't notice painstakingly distracted by the one who always left him conflicted.

"Sleep", he eventually counselled the tired sprite in an equally tired voice. Rebel had at all times come to remind Vergil of Dante. He would always have a soft spot for this weapon.

Rebel obeyed, mounting the bed, to occupy an intimate space beside Vergil's ribs. No other devil arm could boast such a feat.

"Iss", the quiet say as the cobalt blue strands of his hair sparkled amid the nightfall.

Vergil quieted, "sleep", bending the razor-edge's head onto his indulgent pillows. He wanted to keep an eye on his healing overnight. His hand substantially cooler but he didn't let go, stroking Rebel's mane mildly, the same way he was doing Dante's. These two were truly inseparable. Rebellion rose to Vergil's slight irritation. The blade leaned into his face and without warning planted a small kiss to his lips, leaving them tingling. The meaning of "iss" clarified. Rebel had simply learned the unique greeting of love. In his underprivileged eyes there was no greater gesture to demonstrate to his saviour his indebtedness. These hands had saved him, twice.

Cerberus watched and lowered his head. The illiterate and naive sprite had greatly overstepped his boundaries. Vergil had always been tremendously generous towards Rebellion but the gesture now was gravely unfitting and unpardonable. What happened next astounded him. His master's dignified expression stipulated a rare and tolerant smile, cupping Rebel's face Vergil grazed his temples. Rebel's eyes closed in unstinting security, chest heaving as his heart dithered. He too was on a path to knowledge, learning, and self-healing. Vergil would be the one to impart life's lessons until Dante had accomplished the difficult task of beating him. Rebel raised his head and held Vergil's hands, returning to his abdomen he too bowed into deep sleep. Ifrit returned to the room beside Cerberus. They both stared at the one who had no plans to slumber, equally moved by the touching sight before him. Vergil addressed tomorrow's affairs business-like.

"Summon all the sprites to the Dojo in three hours' time."

"Yes", they complied bending in unison. Using the remainder of the time they had to repose.

Vergil watched the last of the fairy-tale that had filled his empty room subtly vanish. Thumb gliding over the lips that left him torn. Dante's love would go unanswered and he would be the one to burden the scars of these heated kisses and all that could and should have been. Rebel's fingertips were clinching his unfilled hand. What tomorrow had in store was anyone's guess?


	8. Alliances

Dante spread-out his strapping arms and cuddled snugly. The garland that swathed him was...so hot, so sexy, "mmm", it was summer...clingy sweat, frantic sex...jumbled limbs, gulps, huh no?! It was a chick's sweet-scented perfume...spring...kind of, but...inhales...nah, positively that of unfading autumn. Grinning appreciatively, he was parked in the middle of nowhere, doing a hell of a lot of fucking. The unmemorable girl beneath him was moaning his name as he thrust into her heat to discover...he was unbearably empty…completely hollow...grinding and rasping...a heavy burden grips his restless heart, guilty conscious whispering why had he never felt anything for anyone? Something was broken inside of him he could never fix.

Dante widened his sleepy eyes to find he was trapped beneath an ice-covered lake. So cold...so brutally numb, amidst sub-zero waters, trying desperately to break free from his watery imprisonment, losing breathes…stuck…inside derelict winter. Eyes alarmed when he discovered someone was peering through the icy sheet from above, viewing his heart wrenching struggles with cruel insignificance. Dante pulverised the isolating rime with bleeding knuckles to escape his entrapment. The one on top lowered onto his abdomen to peep through the crystal partition, enjoying his quandary. The red devil halted his fight with tranquil insights. He was staring at his reflection, with avid cravings, the individual that had confined him here, away from the rest of the world was eyeing him abstractedly. Vergil was regarding him from beyond.

Dante whirled to get frantically closer to the eyes that haunted his visceral daydreams before they could slip away. He was despairingly in love with this unreachable man. Vergil drew away, knowing, he could never escape his crypt. Dante swam and followed his every footfall as it fell and resonated through the chilly fissures. They were gradually fading, panic-stricken in unending pursuit. Dante was untiringly looking for any signs of the harsh being that could save him...only to discover daunting silence. Vergil had rejected him. Dante came to a standstill, spinning upwards towards the brilliant light from the shining surface he could never reach…out of breathes...softly drowning inside the cloudy waters towards the gloomy arms of sightless dusk. He let go.

Dante clogged on his overflowing drool and achieved to squeeze an eye open. The warm bed was littered with wonderful petals that were stuck to his every cranny, modifying his bare flesh in a varied collection of cheerful colours. Emissions of dawn meditatively dispensed. When was the last time he had witnessed a sunup? Dante's room was in perpetual darkness, sleeping all day and staying awake through the nights, repeating the crazy cycle. Further scuffling and rummaging confirmed this was evidently not his bed since he could sprawl freely, unlike the clutter that was his sad crib, examining the pillows for the characteristic spicy cologne that topped even the gratifying scent of these velvety petals. Sniff…sniff, pulling a repulsed face. Why was he in the vampire's room?

"Gross", was the a.m. address.

The loving air, touches of classiness, was so effortlessly cast-off by flinging the infested pillow. Dante had basically elapsed and returned to his previous self-consciousness. His enemy and foe was one and only…"Ver-gil". How he had found his way into enemy territory was beyond him. The last tip-off they had was when he had received that venomous stab to the eye or was it...blank? What did it matter? There was no one else in his life he detested more.

Judging the uncluttered desktop, he tossed the second pillow towards the antique lamp which fell and struck the rug with a thud, cleaning his knotted hairs. Where the heck was his motherfucking mobile and what day was it exactly? Deciding to find out when he heard rustling underneath the bed, startled, he hugged the lingering pillow between his legs and chest, wide-eyed. Dante felt creeping fear. Had he forgotten something…important? Instincts prickling as the scuffling noises improved over-dramatically. As if to say yes…yes he had!?

The red devil decided his fortunes…speedily vacating the bed. He tiptoed towards the doors as if he hadn't heard anything unusual, successfully reaching the exits, to check-out. His fingers folded around the gold handle, head resting on the door-frame, licking his lips fretfully when he heard tempting giggles underneath. Dante bashed his fucked up skull on the timber feeling an overwhelming sense of deja vu. He couldn't leave this room without looking under the bed. Call it destiny; call it being one big fucking moron.

Turning around pissed at himself...he was curious, worse than any delirious kitten. This act was expressive of every cliché horror movie. You just know that oblivious guy shouldn't go looking under an unknown bed but that asshole will take a peek nevertheless. Did the freaky robot vampire store devil arms, wouldn't put it past that weirdo, instantly perking up as his chaotic brain altered gears. Didn't he want to dig up dirt…blackmail?

Stare maliciously tapering with a parallel smile. Of course he did and he was going to drug his tea wasn't he...bingo? Looks like that plan had badly flopped. Should have known Mato was the highest suck up known to man and wasn't trustworthy, must have given it to him hence the current power failure. Wasn't the first time he had woken up with a hangover so to speak, misty eyes drifting towards the empty bed and the...blood? The coloured blossoms couldn't hide that twinkling red. It was as if it was...glistening...fingers drifting over the splashes...shivering. Dante's heart had trembled silently in its restrained cages which Vergil had renovated. Blinking...vacant...frozen.

Even if his awareness was soundlessly asleep inside the curses that were suppressing him, his body wouldn't let him forget what had taken place on this very bed. These titillating ambers hadn't quite subsided. The wild black stallion that was Dante's supreme body was violent, disobedient, and had wrecked the harnesses of those distilled summonses. The raging mount's compulsions were engrained within the body of a singular soul, beautifully Monogamous by nature.

Dante's flesh was exclusively dependent on one forbidden source in this whole creation. Call it obsession, addiction, or irrepressible coercions. No other could ever relinquish this deprived hunger apart from the one he...loved and oh how sincerely and how insanely he loved him. This ceaseless aching and throbbing had nowhere else to go and could never be re-sealed in cessations, overflowing...utterly unstoppable, biting his stinging lips.

"Vergil" was the supposition.

Dante bent to his knees, trembling hand gripping the bedstead before lowering all the way. He crawled inside the gaps to find his childhood sprawled on his tummy peeking inside the golden box which was coincidentally ajar. Ifrit was in the Dojo, as tutored, along with all attending sprites. Yamato's court-martial of misdeeds had commenced and the supreme judge was about to order her sentence. Babe Dante clasped the folded piece of paper that was tactically slipped inside a sliding compartment of the ornamented chest. How could he leave without finding this? The two of them beamed at each other at having found a treasure unlike any other.

Dante clasped the high-spirited child into his chest and rolled outside so that they could unseal the spoils as one, positioning his truthful younger self amid his lap. Dante stole Vergil's bed covers and hid the two of them underneath their shelters. He didn't want the world to look in on their biggest secret. The tiny and slightly chubbier version clad in blue pyjamas untied the sketch he had shaded years ago. Two fuzzy but extremely identifiable figures were seated on an imprecise moon, grinning at the black crayon which was unevenly coloured across the paper, prognostic of inadequate time and need to finish, tracing the dark skies in the cosmoses eased by pointy stars of red and blue. The twiggy figures were...smooching. Babe Dante sniggered in his lap. He had never, ever, forgotten his first kiss.

"I snog...too" retells his dumb partner in crime who had sadly forgotten…yet again.

Dante cuddled, "so did I", fragile eyes veiled with secrecy.

Babe Dante stabbed his pointy nose, "he...he diven't want you to know but...but I div" crediting himself.

Dante glared at the portrait, "I won't forget kiddo...never again" promising to which his younger self sucked his contented thumb and plopped into his chest…fading.

The room was submerged in Genesis as he delivered the missing piece into the borders of the secreted box by the one who had buried it here. Dante removed the sheet and erected with decisive strides. His style, his gaits, his stance were all in par with the silvery mare that had awoken and was emerging. Dante's dormant fighting spirit had sparked into light and was gorgeously sprinting beside him...Snow neighed.

The mighty black stallion that had instigated the current advance's fringed his left side in picture-perfect synchronization. Their thundering hoofs clicking in rhythm on the marble, manes gusting, as he trod on the regal runner. The challenging warhorses were swarming his every step, their burning eyes blazing towards their poised charioteer who was holding sway over his ultimate beasts. If he was going to be victorious in this crafty war-of-love he needed his wits and body to overcome his ingenious rival. The stallion's thundered into pace and highest equilibrium...ready for his reigning commands, ready for war.

"You?!" The simple charge as he left a trail of blooms in his wake.

Vergil contemplated the room to view all the prostrating devil arms, clad in casual black jeans, top and formfitting olive trench coat. Although the outfit was casual his attractive figure would catch the eye of every human being when he reached the boulevards. Everybody had been assembled this morning, including the succubus's, who had weaved exquisite bouquets of colourful lilies inside their arms and braided their hair in jasmine to scent the room and grace his presence. He motioned to them and they formed a perfect circle around him, unsure if he was reprimanding them for getting carried away last night. They all stared at one another nervously and lowered their heads. Agni and Rudra, Ifrit and Cerberus gently shadowed.

Rebel was the only one who was reared beside Vergil, silently exploring his expensive clothing for his attire had been taken from Sparda's vast collection. Vergil had entered his father's lodgings for two reasons. The first was to clean Sparda who was stowed in an air locked cabinet made of eloquent gold rimmed glass, embryonic over a rubicund royal fabric. Vergil had the keys to the most powerful devil arm in design. The ultimate rapier had been left unattended for a few days and he wished to inspect its thick steel for dust. There was none, for Sparda had rinsed his much-loved blade with mounds of vital stars, scheduling his return. The second reason was the necessary garments to clothe his effusively developed blade that had fully healed.

Rebel had been captivated by the colossal weapon that continuously singed an entrancing purple and red but neither did it hum nor murmur...hushed. In the past he wasn't tall enough to reach the high ledge. Rebel had never seen the concealed blade...so close-up. Emerald green orbs spellbound by the utter size and majesty. The rose emblem ingrained in the hilt was flickering. Rebel's breathes puffed onto the glass in wonderment as he stared at the living marvel, his reflection suddenly apparent to him. He could see himself…touching his mature face and longish hair...unconvinced. A distant hum caught his attention as the purple spirals whirled and twirled in circuits much like that of an enthralling tempest. Someone else, just as interesting, had awoken and was staring back at him, albeit curious. The blade that was so persuasively named Sparda had puffed into being.

Vergil was too busy searching the boundless racks for appropriate garb to have noticed the phenomenon, electing a light brown cashmere sweater and flattering chic black pants, deciding to complete with smart black shoes. Sparda's dressing fell squarely in the classy and cultured categories. The young sprite hadn't quite learned how to create clothing around his flesh and hadn't somewhat found his style. Vergil had plans to take Rebel with him on the hunting expedition and he couldn't stand out too much from the ordinary crowds they were likely to happenstance. The adoration of those speckles would simply pass for unusual tattoos and the mask wasn't required.

The elder had robed his distracted blade by seating him on the imperial bed belonging to Sparda. The bed sheets were woven in gold and red, equating the lavish chandeliers and adorning black and gold settees. This was the only room bordering an immense fireplace which was lit, at all times, by darker powers. The swaying flames a sweltering sapphire. Vergil was crouched on the floor to slide on the pants. Rebel lowered to his side when he was upraised.

"Sit" the quiet command.

Rebellion was compliant as the sweater was arranged over his head and snug around a body that was definitely going to attract equal amount of attention. The long mane was attuned with fine fingertip's making the one receiving this special courtesy close his eyes reticently. The thin laces were tied as Vergil considered the outfit for a concluding read-through.

Vergil approved by rising, "you may stand".

Rebel stared upwards meekly, but he didn't move...a little afraid, he had never left the confines of the mansion before, this would be his first outing into the vast and unknown world beyond that all sprites, at one time or another, had embarked upon, and were familiar with. Rebel knew he had to venture outdoors if he wished to go along with Vergil but...fingers curling over the edges of the bed...stuttering, "o-out-s-side?!"

Vergil cupped his head, "I will be with you, you have nothing to fear" the poised words of encouragement from his kind guardian.

Rebel sputtered unsure, the heavenly skies that had seemed so far away when he was so very small were constantly surrounding and watching over him. He was the one being safeguarded at all times by Vergil…so out of place and so very confused. "M-mato" enquiring of the one whose absence was making him feels down. He didn't want Vergil to be seen with him when he had another so very seamless and so very beautiful.

Vergil raised his chin, "you will be the one to accompany me" firm.

Rebellion folds his fragile fingers inside his palms...eyes pessimistic. "Y-you" adoringly whispered with a mixture of hesitancy, fear, and burgeoning love.

Vergil relieved his hands...as if the say had stung. Dante's imitating words had preoccupied him long enough to prevent any other thoughts from possessing his mind, waves of perceptible discord rippling through the tranquil blues of Vergil's perceptiveness. That fervent kiss still burned his rims. He had gotten carried away last night and had crossed the lines…never again. Dante was a brash storm that would carve its destructive path no matter the repercussions. How else could he enclose his significant half, taking Rebel's hand to lead him away? Rebellion glanced over his shoulder towards Sparda. He could see the purple spirals swirling and rising behind the crystal to which he smiled ineptly as they headed into the Dojo where they were presently standing.

Vergil bid, "Yamato".

Mato arrived graciously; neither had she altered her dress or dried her encrusted blood which hadn't stopped oozing from her drawn-out lashes. Mato didn't wish to add false exteriors. A silent tremor occupied the other arms as they viewed the narcissistic katana that whispered no previous egotism and neither sense of self. Yamato was a broken vessel as she bent on her laps and hunched acutely. Vergil weighed her form with slight attentiveness before speaking curtly.

"Do you know why you have been summoned?"

Mato believed, "to receive my punishment...one you may deem fitting for my crimes". The time-consuming insufferable night had finally passed.

The emotionless devil brought, "I wish to hear them from your mouth" disconnected.

Mato raised her head to receive his eyes, mouth widening when she caught the discreet turmoil embedded inside of them. It was not of her making. Vergil hadn't slept, narrating his disquiet, his worries…his love...for another, in one poignant and devastated look. This secreted love was for the one she had greatly wronged. Dante was absent but the shadow of his poignant blade touched her. Rebellion was staring at her with visibly saddened eyes; it was Mato whom had to avert and lower her gazes, profoundly repentant for hurting one so young and so very delicate. Rebel stepped forward but Vergil's hand clasped his chest lightly, stringently waiting for her reply. Even now, he wanted to evaluate her reasons to prevent discord among the other devil arms.

Yamato's voice enraptured, "I was the one who trapped Dante in the cellar last night with the unpolished wolves. He had found out that I had been stealing your essence. I was afraid of getting caught and being chastised".

All other devil arms present were left gravely shocked by the unfitting confession. All eyes on Yamato were by now unquestionably disappointed; for no devil arm, no matter how it was reared, would ever harm its wielder...it was wholly contemptible and traitorous to lead such a dark path. What Yamato had instigated was worse than anything they could have grasped. She was a traitor in their midst and she had even gambled to hurt the ones they would give their lives for, the dwindling space growing heavy with enmity.

Mato spoke softly, "I have stolen from you...your essence as you slept under my...spells" gazing at Rebel, "I miscounseled your brother for his...eternal sleep. I have caused all three of you immense damage".

Vergil returned without anger, "why?" he had to be certain of her motivations.

Yamato confessed, "I have fallen in love...with you..." to which Vergil's discrimination's gravely thinned, appalled. Mato weakened, "if there was but another way, I did not see it...I did not see" closing her eyes where his image was forever engrained, "see anything past you" lowering her voice.

Vergil treaded closer staring down, "Love?" Descending, these intense verses were only intended for her. "You have betrayed my trust...filched my essence, and tried to hurt the ones I...hold dearest to me" infuriated, "your actions are nothing but your aberration for glut and rule, over the other sprites…over me", eyeing her cutting tears insignificantly.

"Iniquity is your true sin Mato, as it was our ancestors, the one who once reigned elevated above the four archangels and whom once guarded God's thrown was cast out of heaven, for the exact same sin...debauchery, dissipation…decadence".

Vergil regarded, "all you've done is taken from those around you. The worst part, your failures are all mine" embittered, "for I have taught you nothing", rereading his fingertips for a parting object lesson. "Love is giving Yamato...not taking, as this corrupt world would have you so believe. You should have known this better than anyone else…for you were my chosen blade", solemnly disenchanted.

Yamato felt the weight of those words devastating her comprehensions. She didn't want Vergil to take the fault for her one-sided actions. This was the worst kind of penalty. Her blood trickled at the sight of his pained face. This would be the last time she would ever see him. "I have...erred...and these are my mistakes alone, your punishment will be...my final command, master, bid...me to make things right", her fingertips reached out to graze his hands when they were unkindly lifted away. The unaffected verdict came briskly.

"I am relinquishing you as my blade and you are to enter eternal sleep" conveyed with his back turned when the doors crudely crashed open.

Dante was early, "looks like I wasn't invited to the party, huh?!" One and all gazed at the bedlam beleaguered with rosettes. "What did I miss...bro" flicking his chest and scattering the floors, "last thing I remember was your blade trying to kill me" inspecting Mato who sat motionless. "You got something to say to me babe" waiting for an expression of regret for hurting a rare stud like him.

Vergil appraised Dante's eyes for any sign of recognition. All he found was an impertinent gaze. The rash announcement's the undoubted guarantee that he was cured of his earlier disease. Everything had been dis-remembered and he wouldn't regret his ways and means. Why grieve what would cause everyone bitter heartache. Vergil would always do what was best for Dante, whether he liked it or not was unconnected.

Yamato arose to sparkle, white fluorescent light stemming from her form as she prepared to fulfil her master's final wishes with salvation. It was what she had planned to do, all along, even if he hadn't been declared. Yamato knew what she had been doing was wrong. These blood tears had been a token of all her sins and a reminder of her true place in this world. She could never transcend and break the bonds of why she was made and for what resolve. Yet it was the moment Dante had lain inside that chamber that she had come to truly regret her actions. When she had stroked his hair and scraped his temples she had touched his quiescent suffering for the one they equally honoured. Yamato had sensed and felt what it was to truly love; she had understood it for all its virulent sorrow and self-effacing dearth. The quiet aching of a hearts beating calls for the one who never answered them.

Dante gaped, "so what's with all this tragedy and why the heck is she glowing" specifying.

Vergil reiterated "she is being punished for trying to murder an idiot like you and for hurting Rebellion".

Dante snort, "I'm not that easy to get rid of, also, who gives a fuck about this stupid brat anyway?"

Rebellion remembered that familiar term. The sea green rose that he had stolen for Dante's sake, had ended up with Vergil. Mato was making fun of him and twisting his burning ear which he held impulsively...they had laughed at him when...when...when he stammers. He was too stupid to learn so Dante had told him to...to go to sleep..."hey, brat, did I say you can come in" anxiously closing his ears. He had disappointed his owner for being so weak…disturbed. Vergil caught the nervous actions, as did the other devil arms which were beginning to indicate signs of impatience including Cerberus who was about to bare his fangs.

Vergil cautioned "do not address him this way".

Dante stared defiantly, "like I give a fuck what you think".

Mato raised her head but didn't react to the slur, for she was the only witness to the graze that Dante had made alongside Vergil's right fingertips, the other didn't even notice. That is how supremely subtle the gesture had been from the one talking so barefacedly.

Dante announced, "I'm here to make a bet, so let's throw that brat into the mix, just for the hell of it".

Vergil's bad mood evident as he lowered Rebellions hands, "bet?"

Dante grinned, "you and me...one on one, next week. Winner gets Rebel and whatever else they want...how about it...bro, or you scared?"

Vergil dropped, "you are not ready".

Dante disagreed, "that's not your fucking problem, but, it's only fair that I get to use...several devil arms". He sauntered towards the radiant succubus's, "ladies", seducing by taking the bouquets from their hands and laying them in a straight line for the apportioning mark. It was time to pick a side.

"Who wants to join me?" extremely confident they would be swooping all over him.

Vergil permitted, "those of you who are combat proficient will join my brother, the match will be scheduled for next week Thursday", the date accidentally one day before their parent's arrival?

The devil arms marched. It was safe to say...he was on his own. Vergil had won by a landslide. If this was the polls, even rigging the boxes wouldn't have yielded a singular vote. Not only had they taken a step beside the blue devil, they had done it by defying his instructions. Vergil's temples wrinkled. This rare deterioration of his directives was becoming a revolt amongst the usually compliant weapons. Dante stood dauntingly alone and he knew exactly why. When had he taken the good manners to study those around him like his father had suggested, his unconventional routine had never incorporated anyone else but him...self-centred…egotistical, fuck-up.

Vergil on the other hand had learned of each and every demonic member under his father's rule-books. The stories of how they were dauntlessly assimilated, their individual backgrounds, down to their reasons for serving the Sparda family so diligently. Each account had been harrowing and exceptional and he had been captivated enough to hear it directly from the factual sources. The blue devil had grown up to these stories and accounts, if he was to write a journal about their expeditions to these walls they would make for heart rendering chronicles. In his curious illumination's he had inadvertently grown attached to them and them to him.

Vergil wasn't just esteemed by Mato…his existence was felt throughout their house. How could these loyal devil arms rear against him, even in a friendly clash? Nevertheless, there was one standing between them who would always cross the lines for Dante. Rebellion was gazing at the separating boundaries when a finger was poked his way.

Dante denied "anyone but you, you're fucking hopeless as it is and I really wanna win against this prick, get it?!"

Rebellion murmured "I...p-protect…y-you…b-because I y-yours…D-Dante" ill at ease.

Dante sighed, "give it a rest would ya...you can't protect shit", jabbing a finger in his ear and itching rapidly, "you're useless", studying his findings and flicking.

Vergil was quiet. His facial expression subdued as he stared at Rebel's heart-breaking face. Only he could catch the rapid heartbeats of his blades disagreed sentiments and silent whispers as he tried to talk properly, just like everyone else. Gazing at Mato whom was the only one sat coincidently behind the in-between lines, on Dante's side.

"Yamato, you will serve him", the newest edict.

Mato ceased her demise and raised her head in esteem. Vergil was giving her a second chance. How could he so benign after what she had done? The katana succumbed to his will, erecting off the floors, her tunic alternating into a pulsing pink with white pants. The blade rose in front of Dante and grasped his shoulder unpredictably. Dante's flesh was clothed in superb grey top and blue denims, assimilated from his cupboard. The red devil was reduced still as he absorbed jarringly, his brother had just given him his ace card and he was losing the will to continue this phony act. How should he retort to this? Think…think…think, frantic? The hurt in Rebel's eyes had rattled him. Dante was disgusted by who he used to be and couldn't fake his newfound sentiments but what choice did he have? He had to hide from Vergil who would throw him back into a blind trance that he may never, ever, wake from. Dante couldn't let that happen.

The enduring devil arms could only watch as muted addressees to the immense generosity that Vergil had deliberated on one so distasteful. Even they couldn't understand why Mato had been outwardly absolved and why she was being entrusted to Dante after what had previously arisen. Even so, no one dared to question Vergil's final rulings.

Dante raged, "I know what you're trying to do, am not falling for it. Keep this psychopathic bitch…?"

He faltered as Mato attuned his hair and stooped before him to replenish his bare feet with his favourite black boots. The task was performed with artistic flare. The katana was displaying her craft so that it may go observed that she would be the one guarding and protecting Dante, with her life. For he was the treasurable person her master was suitably in love with. Yamato would cultivate Dante to be able to match and equal the one who was truly unchallenged and unopposed. Mato would do everything in her power to make her amends. Dante will become Vergil's worthy contender. She would make sure of it.

Vergil tallied, "you have your blade and I have mine" clasping Rebellion's agitated fingers, entwining their shaky textures amid his solid ones. Rebel calmed as Vergil vowed. "I will show you he's true power. You will lose to your own blade" the oath.

Dante laughed, highly amused, "dream on Verge. That dumb brat will cost you the match...trust me" gusting his mane unleashing a few more petals still wedged between his locks. "You're going down" the undertaking "and when you do...you can't refuse what I ask you for".

Vergil arranged, "the rest of you get back to work. Cerberus you will guard the premises until I return".

The demon sunk. The young master was giving him time to rest from his previous hammerings. The sprites vanished, each of them, returning to their unfinished tasks with greater forte. The succubus's resumed to patch their estates with new devoutness. They wanted to cure these flourishes before Vergil's return. Agni and Rudra agreed a cumbersome banquet for Vergil's homecoming with the help of Ifrit's much needed direction. Vergil tugged Rebellion who was still staring at Dante with injured eyes. The blue devil didn't even bother giving him a valedictory glance.

Dante and Mato were the only ones left behind. They didn't speak to one another as the red devil strode towards his dishevelled room in search of his mobile which he couldn't detect under the unending jumble, gliding towards the tall curtains and sliding them open. It was as if a cloudy veil had been lifted from his foresightedness and he could see...really see. How lavish was their home…hearing the uproar of a brand-new motorcycle as it came into assessment.

Vergil was attached to the black Ducati 999S. Dante's forehead scraped the windows edge. He couldn't see anything else except for the graceful man sat before him, smile unfolding his lips as he observed to his heart's content. Eyes involuntary emblazoned with love, lust, and worship. He would enjoy it. The dull throbbing amid his body…the heavy breathes that were caught in his aching throat, the taste of those heartfelt tongue and lips, all the consequences of walking a barbed path towards self-destruction and ruin. So this was what they call love…daunting.

"Vergil", he whispered, and the other gazed up.

Dante stepped back gruffly but it was too late, their eyes joined and he did the only thing he could think of, flashing his middle finger like an accurate scoundrel. Vergil's jaw and eyes scrunched as Rebellion emerged beside him. Those world-weary eyes located Dante above, the self-doubting rapier beamed. Rebel held no grudges for his mistreatment in the past so why would that change now? Perceiving Dante's fingers, he gawked at his hand and shaped his appropriately to copy the greeting, frustrating Vergil who held his indicators to prevent learning ridiculous and unfitting cursing. Advising the inexpert rapier to mount the bike behind him which he did so tastelessly, clutching his shoulders and, time after time, losing his footing on the allotted openings. Vergil positioned his hands about his abdomen and Rebel quietly arranged his body into a comfortable point…jittery.

Yamato had entered Dante's room without his say-so, brushing her tresses. The gentle task of cleaning his room transpired. The disarray swiftly ascending into order as belongings, possessions, and garments were simply moved to their owed places. Dante's mobile was lifted off the floor and floated into her hands as she joined her new master's side to gaze downwards with harmoniously loving eyes. Vergil and Rebellion watched her as she bowed deeply from remoteness. This time the greeting wasn't just directed towards her master but the child that she had picked on relentlessly. Rebel beamed kindly and Mato dazzled him with a likewise indulgent smile. The simple and trusting sprite was safely inside accomplished hands and would flourish. The two familiar faces above were gently easing Rebel's outing into the unversed.

Vergil didn't greet her, roaring the bike terrifying Rebellion who held him tight enough to make him wince, grasping his hands with affluence to which Rebel relieved his grip reservedly, "s-sorry". Vergil tucked his lengthy hair behind his ear and whispered words of assurance to which Rebel nod. The blue devil gave Dante another severe scan as the bike blasted out of the open gates…gone.

Dante grumbled "what the fuck am I doing", thumping his head on the window per habit when a cool hand prevented.

Yamato asked for clemency, "I know, I have hurt you...and I do not ask for your pardon, my acts are irrefutably unforgiveable. What I'm asking is for you to allow me to help you achieve..."

Dante interject, "have I kissed him?"

Yamato caressed his temple and closed her eyes in understanding; "three times" she established the latest tally with the newest insight. The third kiss had been entrenched over Dante's lips. This hidden secret had been kept, even from her. Unlike her unrequited love, Dante's had gone solved, so why did he look so pained and why was Vergil so separated…mystified? Love was complex.

Dante sighed "thought so" taking his mobile from her hands and slipping it into his denim's, "think you can get me back in the cellar babe?"

Yamato alerted "that ill-tempered wolf is of no use to you but I will do as you direct of me".

Dante strode towards his neat bed and plopped on his belly to retrieve his secret weapon...poisonous and out of date beef jerky, unbeknownst to him of course. "Let's go" when he went down again to snatch another vital piece...an erotic magazine. Dante skimmed though the pages expertly to get to the girl he liked.

Smiling devilishly, "I want you to wear this".

Yamato slanted her head at the model with counterfeit boobs and skimpy black bikini, reluctant, "I do not desire to be objectified by my sexuality and neither do I find this garb fitting".

Dante paused impatiently, "let's not forget the part where you tried to murder me in cold-blood and let's just say I don't trust you. So I need to know if you're really going to do what I ask, get it!" Blatant lies, the rogue just wanted to observe her a little naked. Reparation for what she did.

Yamato altered without another word. Even replicating the stiletto's the model was wearing but the comparison was non-existent. Mato observed flawlessly sophisticated regardless of what she garbed. She was, after all, Vergil's blade.

Dante reviewed her positively, head to toe, "mmm, nice, but your right, it doesn't suit you", speed-reading to get to the other picture and prodding to which Mato mirrored without demand, "that's more like it" gratified.

The katana was dressed in skinny denims, fitted white high collared blouse and killer black ankle boots. They were ready to go out. Dante had planned to find Ivory before Vergil could with the help of Ebony, winning these specific devil arms as his and surprising Vergil with them during their contest. He wanted to prove himself to his brother and father as a starting point, gripping Mato's hand as she checked her new clothing to attune to its comfort and flow. The heels on the boots were a little difficult to walk in even with her indefatigable balance. They reached the basement undetected thanks to everyone else working their butts off. Yamato unsealed the doors and gazed the room with a look of quiet setback. She didn't recognise her new world or herself without her master. Vergil's absenteeism from her life was visibly perceptible.

Dante cruised, "well, where the hell is that shitty mutt which bit me?"

Yamato unsealed the lock to the pen, they could hear the beasts laboured breathe but the animal didn't leave its crates. Dante tossed the jerky as inducement, a low snarl but the scrumptious treat wasn't taken. "Shit", trying to move swiftly onto plan B, deciding to get closer when the katana halted his advancement. Mato reached inside the closure, retreating her hand inches from cracking tusks. Ebony hobbled out with the vanes still attached to his flesh grumbling, "spawn" stiffening his fur at Mato who up-stretched her menacing figure to remind him not to behave badly. The said spawn huffed.

"The names Dante...dog" to which the wolf rose in inaudible offense.

Dante leaned on the walls, doubling his arms, "you tried to eat me but seeing as I'm in such a good mood, I'll give you a chance to take me as your new owner or else you stay here looking like road kill for the rest of your crappy life".

Ebony barked, " a weakling like you dares to command me...an Alpha?!"

Growling "you're a meagre Beta, for I have seen the power of the other spawn, you two cannot trick me", staring at Yamato who stood unmoving. "Death is what I choose…I will never surrender my freedom to the likes of you".

Dante slanted, "your brother...he abandoned you, right?"

Ebony's growling mouth lessened, "I have no brother" the acrimonious retort as the injured wolf limped towards the safety of his catacomb.

Dante finished, "he betrayed you, you trusted him…with your life and he left you here to die", the tone was quietly reflective and had found its piercing mark.

Ebony came to an abrupt stand-still.

Dante fearlessly strode closer. Mato tried to intervene but he held her hand to inspect the worst wound that the canine had received not made by Vergil's hands, stooping.

"He did that to you...didn't he?"

Ebony lowered, "you know nothing, spawn. Do not speak as if you can understand our bond", rebuffing with a sniff of Dante's appealing odour…it was the crossbreed's disease-ridden blood that had…slavering with his tongue, hobbling to get away.

Dante lured, "don't you want revenge. Ask him why he did this to you? Or you just going to sit here sulking like a wimp."

Ebony jerked furious, "you mock me?!"

Dante grinned "nope, am offering you a chance to get out of here and have the opportunity to beat the crap out of your brother".

Eyeing, "the catch is, I get to own you".

The wolf was distrustful, "you want to enslave me, certainly not".

Dante tempted "fine by me. I was going to offer you my blood too as an added bonus but looks like that isn't going to happen, let's go Mato".

Yamato tilt to observe the disputed wolf. Who knew Dante could be so cunning. She had never considered him worthy in the shadow of Vergil's figure, yet it was evident something irrepressible had revived within him. Dante was Sparda's even-handed son. Ebony howled, halting their steps. Paws pattering as the assaulted wolf crept towards Dante with heavy and hesitant paces, the seductive scent of his plasma overriding his rationalities. This crippling blood had sealed his present undoing. Ebony had never swallowed lifeblood so pure and rich…hooked worse than any substance made by man. How the frail spawn had captured his weakness was not playing on his wisdoms. Only the blood and his thirst for revenge empowering a body that had never submitted, hunching on his frontal paws, stingily.

Ebony bent, "bind our contract" rustled.

Dante was clueless about what that actually meant. Yamato whispered counsel and he bit his fingertips raising it towards the starving beast that was drooling…again. Dante had figured the wolves evident cravings. Who could resist him? Ebony lapped the essence with his tongue hurriedly, eyes shut, grunting when he felt a warmish hand shadow his blood encrusted mane, flinching from the human contact, savagely bearing his fangs. Dante drew closer to pat him again.

"Cute" was the dreadful prodding.

"Let me see your devil arm…dog" the continuing abuse.

Ebony licked his fangs in resentment, about to strike vengeance when he noticed a few delicious droplets on the floor, ensuing to taste them like some vagrant rodent out on the streets, repulsed by his disgraced state. Had he become a slave to this fusion of hybrid lifeblood? Ebony detonated and tried a spiteful chomp at Dante's hands when his jaw was clamped and broadened by female fingers, the pressure ever-increasing. Mato cautioned with thought-provoking eyes.

"Your master has asked you for your devil form. You will accept".

Dante felt sorry for the addicted pooch, "cool it Mato, and you, we don't have all day so show me already".

Ebony was unconstrained. He crossly pushed and bumped his muzzle against Dante's hands and distorted.

Dante wrapped the weapon as it bounded to his tips, as if it was made…just for him.

Puffing his mane, "now that's more like it".

The coolest revolver he had ever seen steadied his hand, embellished with glinting silver, "sweet". He spun and shot the flaming bullet. The butt of the pistol recoiling so hard it would have spanked his smiling face had it not been for Mato's hand that disallowed the bounce. The silver bullet swerved and was spiralling towards its trigger having found no adversary. These magical bullets couldn't miss their fatal mark. "Fuck" Dante's ecstatic comprehension as the bullet warped in the direction of the barrel vanishing. It was love at first sight, upraising and trying with a stance. It felt weird with just one, he needed two...seriously. Dante rang his mobile.

Alex was tracing a new sketch of a rose, coiled in barbed wire. His inspiration had been the inspirational person whom he had the pleasure of meeting two days ago. Smiling, as he found his gifted aptitude to create selling designs that had been beforehand bunged, multiple drawings of the phoenix, koi, and dragons were strewing his creative desk, "merde" (shit) when he glanced at the time. He hadn't slept and had worked through the night, mercifully having booked a day off work he could relax when his phone buzzed in paradox. Browsing the caller ID he snatched his mobile to question.

"You're alive" the bored stiff greeting.

Dante scrubbed the gun under his chin, "y' miss me?!"

Alex sharpened his pencil, "how and why are you awake" re-checking the time.

The indulged prince crooned, "I need a ride, so come pick me up, ass" over and done with the bureaucracies.

Dante had failed his driving test thrice and couldn't afford to scratch their expensive cars. He wanted the safest and most comfortable mode of transport into the city using the GPS that was Ebony. Why not make it a great trip out?

Alex copied, "and why would I do that you di-ck" stumbling, didn't he want to meet Dante's brother? Vergil was his name, the dude was cool...even…tap, tap.

Alex had never looked up to anyone before, most men in his circle were questionable role models, above all, he wanted to converse about the delicate topic they had brushed on, excited, "alright, I'm coming...will pick you up at the usual spot" ending the call to take an express shower, " what to wear" gruffly self-conscious.

Yamato tracked Dante as he headed back into his bedroom, "it is unwise to involve a human boy. I can create a portal into the city for our arrangements".

Dante considered her outfit and delved his wardrobe, extracting a black hat with a cream strip, suave. He slipped it on her head and adorned her wrists with his brown and black beads, "better", taking his equally fashionable black jacket. "If we're going out together, might as well make it memorable…right". The katana grasped mildly, liking her guise. Dante was utterly irresponsible and she had her work cut-out…uncomplaining.

The said undependable one attempted to slip the polished handgun behind his back, then side, then front. An unlicensed demonic handgun could pose trouble, weighing his options but not considering the fact that he was about to take two devil arms along on a hunting day trip with a usually stoned mortal?!

"Dog", the ill-informed owner summoned inexactly, lowering the tricky weapon to the floor.

Ebony thundered into existence "my name is not dog...a mediocre plaything for humans is not equal to a privileged wolf. Has Sparda not taught this indiscipline spawn the way of the demon order?" Mato had declined to answer the question, busy correcting her impeccable posture to her new garb.

The wolf jeered "why do you aggravate my tolerance…mph". Black designer shades were being positioned over his enraged and blood coloured eyes, camouflaging them. A red scarf was being tied about his bloody collar to pass the massive wolf off as a mere pet.

Dante studied, "can you shape shift to a smaller sized pooch", nonchalantly. "Forget it, I've seen bigger ass dogs then you" scratching his jaw, happy with the end results.

Ebony barked, "what have you done to me!?

Beholding his ridiculous image in the floor mirror, stunned, "death is more fitting" the wolves end was approaching as it started to glimmer in despair.

Dante prevented suicide, "I'll give you more blood so quit having a meltdown. Mato how the heck we remove these", tugging Vergil's parting presents that had lodged his own ass…the violent rapiers.

Yamato burst out laughing at Ebony's uncharacteristic guise and discontentment, her quiet gaiety easing the mood as she allied the cryptic codes to release their fuming captive. The blades splintered but the remnants of their shards landed inside her flesh, sinking...merging, a token of Vergil. Ebony whined in visible pain as his blood gushed from the cavernous cuts.

Dante queried "how do we fix his injuries?"

Yamato tested his fur, "the cuts will heal now that they have been removed. He may require more of your blood to fix this wound".

Ebony flinched at the contact to his chest, "no, leave it…I wear this only as a mark of his betrayal".

Dante stretched his tired back, "give it a rest would ya", meeting Ebony's designer frames as he gazed up baffled. "You're worried about your brother and he's the only reason you sacrificed your freedom". Slanting, "accept it already…you're in fucking denial about your real feelings".

The wolf had no return, it was absurd. Why would he care for that fool who was likely dead because he had no one else to…guide him, reluctant to accept the truth?

Dante bit down on his palm, his gifted life-force was spilling onto the carpet as he mastered the art of controlling his blessed blood, preventing the stinging cut from closing. "We'll find him, so quit being such a grouch" the brooding reassurance.

Ebony and Yamato gazed at the one standing above them with haunting insights. Why did Dante's subtle expression bear such a striking resemblance to Vergil and why could they not turn away from his rubicund aura? The answer was simple. The younger Son of Sparda was just as gifted and just as brilliant as his antagonistic counterpart. The only difference was in the "style" of game play...and what a wicked game it was shaping up to be?


	9. The Uninvited

Sparda belched, the sound-waves undulating the passive currents of idyllic Indian Ocean. "Good heavens", horror-struck, and gratefully alone to have diffused such an uncharacteristic sound from his mouth.

The living legend was nobly seated on lush white settees with inspiring intertwined wood, a cool oceanic breeze in-flowing through the villas courtyard that had no walls to speak of, rustling the opulent gardens. Despite the ambient settings, he was finding it very hard to unwind. The flight had been beyond the pale and Sparda was still handling the ramifications of the ungodly turbulence they had undergone four days earlier. There were some things even he couldn't get used to. Flying like a human was one of them, particularly when he could create a portal and arrive within seconds. Trying to set a good example for his sons and escorting his beloved who could sadly only travel one way. The sacred knight would always be the one to compromise for his loved ones. The only downside, his devil, who was despairingly motion sick and for the past several days he hadn't been able to enjoy the vacation as he had prearranged. Sparda had the worst case of jet-lag so to speak.

Vergil hadn't called which was unusual and Eva had been forbidden to make contact with the little rapscallion going by the name of Dante. So far she had been extremely well wrought, sipping his ginger and lemon tea that Nevan had prepared this morning to ease his disorders, regarding the built-up arcs with dreamy white curtains swaying. He had plans to go diving, the coral reef here held a grandiose array of wildlife. If only his body would convalesce, swallowing the bitter brew. The ladies were enjoying a massage on the beach which he had taken the courtesy to book for them; their current location was so secluded that he had handled each day's itinerary in advance of their travels...overly cautious.

The bordering popular town was at least a three hour drive, grumbling, just the thought was making him nauseous and sadly he wouldn't be joining the busy females on any of their scheduled outings until he was feeling better. The same pampering tour company was about to take them shopping, along with a visit to the animal sanctuary and butterfly park. Deciding to lie down in his boudoir, heading past the swimming pool, private bar and antique snooker table, up a curving marble staircase towards the balcony where he slid the glass doors to enter the simple but stunning room. Vacations were all about down-to-earth ease.

The spacious room was ornamented by a high four poster bed with white linen and gliding draperies. The rotating fans were propelling a gust of fresh air in the cool compartment with comfortable settees. Golden oil lamps scattered the room for their evening reclining. Three steps up leading towards a sliding wooden panel that enclosed the open shower and toilets. Privacy was never going to be an issue for this vast location was all theirs to enjoy. Sparda stripped his white cotton shirt, about to unzip his comfortable knee khakis when he noticed the magazine fallen beneath the bed table. If anyone hadn't guessed by now Vergil had inherited his father's compulsive qualities of being spick-and-span. Sparda couldn't help himself from mining the article to its rightful place when he noticed something strange. The cover of the women's beauty magazine was slipping apart.

Sparda opened to appraise the deceiving item, seating on the bed contemplating the manga which had been deceitfully passed off as an inoffensive women's conformist magazine. The elite nobleman reviewed the starting panels intrigued by the art. It was astonishing, for Sparda had never quite had the inclination of passing time with groundless children's activities, skimming to commence the fiction that appeared to be about a prehistoric vampire with thick black hair and a rather beautiful face.

The knight had slain many demons of this kind...this individual succubus appeared to have adopted a human boy, much akin in good looks to his own descendants which was the front page of the brashly named manga, "my vampire sugar daddy", interested enough to review the next panel of pictures as the story begun in full swing. The youth appeared to be an orphan and was running away from the vampire lord which was likely going to guzzle him. As he fled his shirt was somehow ripped and torn by pointy rocks to expose the boys…chest, in fact a full page was dedicated to depict the various angles of his rather lively and pointy…nipples.

Sparda frowned, "it's rather..." unable to identify what was exactly wrong with the picture so far…the whole enchilada!

The shadowy predator catches the fleeing youth near a wild beach much like their own to evidently drain his virgin blood. Sparda knew these malefactor sprites often targeted the old or very young for they couldn't battle these evil apparitions, turning a page to see what would emerge. Sparda had grossly misinterpreted the smutty Yaoi manga for uplifting family drama and was about to find out the hard way why this was deliberated, intransigent...porn. All previous signs were badly missed, including the nipple broadcasting. Sparda was forever traumatised with the horrifying drawings that followed of unforeseen monotonous sex between two menfolk. The excessively mannish vampire voiced on top of the besieged teenager.

"Your body has become extra sensitive" mocking.

"Please ah, aah, no…s-stop" the abruptly feminine looking boy disagreed.

The Seme vampire scoffs, "look how wet you have become from just my fingers...dirty boy".

The erotic looking Uke pleads, "l-let me go, ah...aah" spreading his legs, self-contradictory, "no, puh-stop".

"Thrust...thrust...thrust…squelch".

Sparda shut the manga, with grave insights. What is once seen…can never be unseen. Eyes processing, he knew exactly who was into this kind of warped and twisted play. Nevan appeared on queue draped in a green bathrobe beside Eva. They had just finished receiving their joint session with the female masseuse, recognizing the deviant art book and the fairly overwhelmed look on Sparda's face. Eva rushed to her husband's relief.

"What happened darling?" Golden locks in a tight bun, massaging his shoulders when she noted the thing in his hands..."this is", stunned.

The cool vamp interjected, "oh...my, how did that get there?" Eliminating the manga from Sparda's tense hands, "my apologies master, my tastes are a little different and so are my...cravings" winking. "I must have dropped it here when I was cleaning your chamber" pleading guilty.

Sparda was still too mentally and physically disturbed to talk. These were intended for women...confounded. Nevan was the only sprite that dazed even him, deciding it was best to change the grey area subject, gliding Eva's forearm's. "How was your treatment" clasping.

Eva lowered to his lap and Nevan took her leave to give these famed lovebirds some privacy. She would have to get changed into a suitable garb to accompany the mistress on her day out.

Eva sighed "you're still feeling unwell, honey?"

Sparda foiled a belch, "I'll be fine, please do take care when you reach town".

Eva wrapped his abdomen, "I miss them...Sparda can't we just go home now?"

Her husband prohibited, "only a few more days, my dear, I promise" wary. The only one who could blackmail him was his significant other. Dante had clearly taken after the Mrs.

The indulged mistress leaned into his lips and kissed, "has Vergil called, I can talk to him at least..." negotiating.

Sparda freed her bun, "we can call them tonight" to which Eva hugged tightly.

The ban had been finally lifted having kept her side of the bargain to prevent any private contact, detecting her skin was still oily from the massage. Sparda lowered Eva onto the bed and untied the gown when she reminded.

"The driver is waiting outside, but we can always cancel" naughty.

Sparda chuckled raising her upwards, "in which case I will wait for your return. The boys would like souvenirs, wouldn't they? It's your only chance to get them. I cannot afford to have you travel alone after this" solemn.

Sparda was stingy when it came to his mortal wife travelling alone, without him, even when equipped with a deadly and accomplished arm like Nevan. The legendary devil had always hoped to provide his lover with a normal life…it was difficult at times considering how different their world's truly were.

Eva declared "only if the rest of the week we spend on the beach?"

Sparda laughed quietly, "I will cancel the remaining tours" like-minded.

The gorgeous Mrs raised and promptly dropped her gown, strolling up the steps nude towards the exposed showers. She slid the panel and trod inside prompting with one finger to which Sparda appeared beside her, starting the sprinklers. Surely the driver could wait a few additional minutes. Forgetting he was still clad in his khakis as they made love like it was the first time they had done so. How lucky were they that the burning feelings that had driven them to the furthest end of their realms still raptures the same never-ending fires of passion. Naked and wrapped Sparda retold his lover.

"Call me as soon as you…" interrupted by another smoking kiss.

"I love you" Eva's diamond ring scraped his spine.

Sparda returned and released reluctantly, "I will prepare our meal tonight" soothing her matted curls.

His eyes could never stop straying far from hers. The one in front was inestimable and also the most precious to him. If only his lifeblood could join hers and reduce his biggest fear...of ever losing her. There were some things that even Sparda had no control over.

Eva sensed his quiet unease, "you know what my biggest fear was?"

Her spouse countered "that I would be left alone...without you, since..." not wanting to think about the fact that he would outlive his mortal wife. They had but of course considered all the niggling problems before they committed.

Eva raised his wedding band, "it used to be my fear but now..." beaming "now we have a family love, so don't look at me with those saddened eyes".

Sparda was gratified, "I have no qualms with the way things have turned out...for what you have given me...even if I travel the universe...I will find no other, like you".

Eva snuffled inside his chest and Sparda prevented her tears, "please get dressed and enjoy yourself, we also needed this break, Evie".

The Mrs chuckled at the mention of her pet name as he turned off the warm sprinklers wrapping her body in an indulgent white robe, "I think Nevan has selected your garments" viewing the comfy beige shorts and white vest that had been neatly laid over the bed, even a beautiful turquoise necklace was arranged along with a pair of white sandals.

Eva whispered a singular word into her husband's earshot, "you" devotedly. The life that she had been blessed with was incomparable and she didn't have to say it out loud. That she would never find another man like Sparda in the entire cosmos over...her soul mate.

Nevan was chatting with the appealing driver who happens to be a youngish boy of twenty one, flirting and seducing behind the specs, dressed down in a pair of blue shorts, black vest and comfy flip-flops. Her fiery red tresses were open for maximum effect. Having lived for many years the hot vamp had managed to reduce her thirst for blood by dining on cute furry animals. However, a little nibble of human blood, on special occasions, had been permitted by her righteous master, smiling when she noticed Eva heading her way.

"Mistress, you look wonderful" delighted.

Eva had tied her long hair in a manageable plait, adding a designer saddle bag to her outfit containing her money, cards, and shades.

Sparda joined her side clad in a white bathrobe, "I expect you will take care of the schedule".

The vamp vowed, "I will ensure everything goes accordingly" confident of her capabilities to guard the most important member of their household, opening the doors to their red jeep.

Eva kissed Sparda goodbye reluctantly, "please rest" forcing her way inside the car but he caught the pout as it shaped her ruddy lips.

Nevan bowed to Sparda and slid beside her mistress as they pulled out of the driveway.

Eva groaned and covered her face, embarrassed, "Nevan?!"

The affectionate vamp hinted, "he does not suspect you, so please don't worry" having taken the fall for her.

Eva bit her lips, a custom her a few seconds younger son had cultured, "I almost died of shame" whingeing and breaking down," I just...an adult woman, mother of two, reading such...smutty...what's wrong with me!"

Collapsing in the backseat, "Sparda was appalled wasn't he?!"

"Is this considered cheating?"

The blonde was petrified by the imaginary men addicting her and weighing down on her otherwise clear conscious. How could she ever reveal her dark side to her family...that she was a cowering BL fan...grimacing at the labelled tag.

Nevan compassionately eyed the closeted fujoshi that was Eva. It was obviously her who had corrupted and converted the mistress towards the world of delightful Yaoi and made her a big fan, producing the next four volumes inside her enticing hands for their long voyage. "The next chapter is…mesmerising" craftily tempting.

Eva gazed at the manga repentantly, giving in, "it's hard to put down when they keep leaving each chapter with a cliff-hanger, and all the misunderstandings between Vincent (vampire) and David (mortal boy) are silly", frustrated with the cliché plot and yet still riveted enough to continue.

Nevan took one for her and flicked a page, "it is the way of the fujoshi order mistress...once you are in, there really is no way out".

About to lower her shades when she remembered the mortal boy driving would likely suffer a panic-attack if he saw her juicy red orbs, preventing. Thankfully, he couldn't speak any English either so their other secret was safe. The ladies were quickly absorbed and rather thankful for their private ride to read what would often require incognito mode.

The unsuspecting knight poured another glass of the tonic and decided to seat on the hammock located on the beach when he heard his mobile ringing. Summoning his phone to take the call, expectant it was his governing son. The anonymous call alerted otherwise. This particular number was only for the usage of his family...sighing and seating to take the unbidden call.

"Hello" the even greeting.

A soft sigh on the other side before the charming male besieged, "Sparda...it's so good to hear your voice. It has been too long and you're a difficult…man to trace..."

The knight sipped as his devil anxiously growled in its pens, "and you are rather difficult to shake off" saddened. "How many times will you fail in your attempts before you give up?"

The opinion wavered, "I can never give up on you, perdition isn't the same...even as I reign supreme...especially our game of chess...your Queen is a little vulnerable is she not?"

Sparda rustled unamused, "I only wish the best for you…even in my absence" remorseful for the way they had parted.

The unidentified caller was not affected, "don't worry, I wouldn't dream of attacking her", changing the sensitive subject, "Sparda still dormant? Your blade detested you for leaving behind an empire built on mayhem...for what...a life suited for a lowly human...a shame, a real shame. I miss him too and understand his fall-out…why not set him free?"

"Ah, is it you fear he will return to serve me?"

Sparda gritted painfully and gazed towards the endless wilderness of white sand and ocean. His matchless rapier had been absent for too long and he didn't wish to hear these stinging remarks, noticing a figure approaching him from the expanse, like a mirage, questioning.

"Do you see him? The boy slumbers too much" tickled.

"I opened the portal three hours earlier. I have been thinking to myself about my past failures, since I seem to be getting nowhere in changing your mind to return home, so this time I have found an interesting demon to test you with. How about it…Sparda…I have learned only from you", voiced fondly.

The legendary knight rose to view...eyes pressing "it would be better if you forget me…my return will only hinder your path" a little angered.

The unnamed revered, "no, you're not mistaken, the boy approaching looks so much like them. Is he like Dante...or more so like Vergil, you don't tell them about me?" Generous merriment erupting, "your betrayal has inspired others to follow in your ne'er-do-well footsteps…you always were inspirational" rejoicing.

"How are all the other conspirators doing...Nevan...Ifrit?"

"He is sweet 16, how old are yours again?"

Sparda was speechless as the mysterious youth wandered closer as if he was rambling in torpor, feet bloodied and bare, hair tangled and snarled, tattered grey shorts riddled with fresh and dried gore. Attached to his thigh was a shotgun with an emblem of a rose. The white vest in shreds from the previous massacre he had inflicted and long forgotten...blood still dripping from his unclean blade mounted to his scrawny shoulders. The inexplicable holsters binding the weapons were brand new. Everything clothing that body was raggedy, including the volatile soul.

Sparda was dismayed as the boy continued his gradual pace, numerous lashings and cuts riddling his obscured face and equally battered body. Cobalt eyes colliding with his as the otherwise angelic looking youth continued to drift closer...in a dreamlike pace, right arm oddly wrapped in fresh dressing which was unravelling to conceal his true weapon. This programmed killer had only one specific target and one sole purpose for existing…decease and butchery.

The knight cautioned "you seem to be running out of ideas. How many more will you send to die by my hands until you get the message? I shall never return and as long as I am in the human realm I will be their defender".

The excited voice crept, "I simply miss you and thus we have our current impasse and ongoing...conflict of interest" sighing "this is war of a different kind." Craftily diverting the subject yet again, "take a closer look at him Sparda...have you ever seen another hybrid like your sons...he's a rare precious stone and I know how much you enjoy...collecting".

"I hope you will make him a part of your budding catalogue?"

Sparda stared as the tall youth erected just a few feet away, as if sleep-walking, head down he reeked of bloodshed, body odour, and threat, evaluating his form as the intriguing adolescence started to unwind the dressings, ever so slowly. The spectacle of him was like an illusion, so out of place in these divine shores. The enlightening devil arm pulsing with sapphire light revealed itself and its deadly intent. Leaving the one viewing utterly spellbound. The demonic limb was magnetic and surging with raw energy...when the compulsive voice intrigued the knight's interests further.

"No one knows which demon sowed him; his human mother was a cheap drug addicted whore, prostituting the streets. Do you know what the humans do to orphaned children these days, oh protector of the righteous race?"

Sparda could tell with just one view of what had befallen the young crossbreed. He had never believed the stories that used to circuit within the elite rich circles about secret societies and Monarch Control. Conspiracy theories which held no factual evidence and yet there was one that he had found to be true, much to his disgust. The humans were collecting homeless children, breaking them down mentally to operate as monotonous robots used to carry out prostitution, assassinations, and drug smuggling. It had seemed farfetched at first had he not investigated the matter further including the factual science, and research behind it since WW2.

These ill-fated children had been targeted and programmed from a very young age. Undergoing ritual abuse which included, electric shocks, sleep deprivation, torture on a sadistic level, until the child crumbles into a master and slave conditioning or dies. The handler of these children was then able to create a trigger within their broken psyche to bid their commands...a walking...talking disposable puppet that had been brought up inside electrified cages to function as a slave, nothing more, nothing less.

The joyful voice resolved "if you must know he has suffered tremendously since he was a toddler. His programming and endurance was terrifically higher compared to the other mortal children and you can guess how he survived their torture?"

"The silly humans believe that arm of his is simply a grotesque defect?"

Clarifying and helpful, "he has been encoded under Delta Conditioning, so much so, that even his sadistic master had become afraid of him. I bought him at the private auctions as a gift for you and Eva. Your wedding anniversary is nearing…is it not?"

"I can never forget the day you turned your back on me", clinking of a wineglass reverberated from the other end.

The youth raised his head awaiting his masters commands, hazy and blurred eyes fixed on his newest target which he would eventually tear, limb to limb.

Sparda noticed the abrasions across his jaw and lips, these were made by his own talons, attached to the extraordinary limb, the only part of the boy that had no blemishes to speak of.

The cryptic voice bid "let's see how you handle this one, until next time...I miss your company dearly and hope to see you again...little brother".

Nero snarled, eyes pits of lava red as he snapped on command pummelling the ground that Sparda had stood momentarily by the means of an undetectable knuckle, lunging with his bringer as it soared the air to seize its rapid enemy. Sparda teleported to a safer distance, observing. He wanted to find out the accurate length this dangerous light could travel. The answer was, limitless, Nero teleported behind him, shaping a mesh to snare the one seamlessly fleeing from his punishing grips. Sparda was trapped and the commanding light altered rapidly to coil his neckline like a noose. Nero hauled and gripped his jagged blade to cut down his formidable foe, confused, his talons were empty. A fist connected to his jaw sending him crashing into the palm trees that dispensed their coconuts over his crazed head. Spitting his broken tooth, the equally broken youth growled with religious zeal…to kill.

Sparda's white robe was speckled with fresh blood. His strength was phenomenal, a singular hit should have halted all attacks but Nero came at him again, more aggressive...more insane, pounding his fist leaving a crater and toppling the unfortunate tree in his enraged course. Sparda avoided the blade as it was wielded with intricate attacks, spun, twirled and abruptly on fire as Nero charged his rapier by twisting the handle searing it in heat...out of control. Substituting his loud gun to fill the holes his blade and light couldn't reach. Even so, Sparda managed to evade his every manoeuvre.

Nero screamed infuriated...expression ranging red as his glowing light altered to the beats of his pounding heart. Slicing and carving the air in speed that no human would be able to see but Sparda was impossible to catch, carefully deciding the youth's fate who was reminding him too much of his younger and entitled son to simply slay. It was strange how someone anonymous could feel so much acquainted, when he was suddenly struck by a tidal wave that had emerged out of nowhere.

Nero had used the ocean to his gain having distracted Sparda long enough with his blade he had inventively stamped the waters hard enough to punch the equator. The wave had surged silently and only grown in stature as it struck the shoreline, avoiding drowning by concealing his body in the brimming light which had acted as his buffer. That was how insanely powerful that devil bringer was. The waters dispersed and Nero trod towards his saturated victim as he lay powerless on his front. Nero clamped the back of Sparda's neck that turned to fling sand in his face. Although it was an extremely deplorable tactic and one unfitting of his stature another fist from him would put the cracked youth in a coma and having had a stimulating swim in his now saturated robe he had decided that killing the boy would take further deliberation.

Nero roared, clutching his face as Sparda curled his muscular arm about his neck in a headlock to render the boy unconscious. The furious teen struggled to dislodge, thrashing madly, trying to locate his misplaced weapons that had been swept by the tide. The energy forcing Sparda backwards on a couple of very slick rocks, losing his footing, slamming backwards with the fighting youth struggling and writhing in his grip's but refusing to lose consciousness. Sparda had no choice but to squeeze and restrain, the one gasping for air scratched and clawed his bleeding forearm which restored rapidly. A hybrid was simply no match for a full-fledged devil. This one-sided bout would only ever end one way. Nero stopped squirming, head rolling to one side as he finally blacked out. Sparda huffed in exertion he really was getting too old for these uninvited bouts of aggression. Staring at the limp body in his grip's noticing how inappropriate the scene would look to a nameless passer-by.

Sparda's unfastened robe had slipped to one side revealing a nude figure that was nearing an eight pack and better then both hot sons combined. The teen's tattered shirt was revealing two very perky nipples that reminded him of the sections from the questionable novel that he wished to dispel from his mind, rapidly shoving the boy from his clutches who rolled over and slumped face first into the sodden sands as he adjusted his revealing clothing. The immaculate beach had seen better days. The sand was dented, trees toppled and the ocean was still adjusting its chaotic flow. A storm was on the horizon, as the perfect blue skies were swamped by dark clouds. Tropical rain ensued within minutes in a short, sharp shower, drenching the newly acquainted males.

Sparda aired, "can a man not warrant a vacation?"

Nero gave no reply. His undecided fate rested on the one who had been renowned to be ruthless and brutal in his bloodletting past. A loving mortal's touch had changed and cultured an unruly devil into a compassionate being with a moral compass, transporting the benumbed youth inside his fatherly arms. Sparda had made special bunkers in preparation for any foreseeable problems. Yet this said problem was proving to be dangerously unique. Pacing towards the snooker table and laying the heavy burden on top of it. Sparda re-checked the youth's physique for any embedded electronic devices...there were none? The prompt to attack had been delivered during the mobile exchange. Trying to remember the final parting words the boy's newest master had used to signal his slave.

"Brother" whispered with a heavy heart to which the slumbering teenager almost stirred.

Sparda exhaled…how he could ever escape his past? What he had chosen to leave behind was forever lurking in the shadows to destroy what he had so lovingly built. He flicked the switch located beneath the table's edge where the coins are usually inserted, the bar revolved on its shifting floor to unveil the secreted chamber. A metal stairway was leading to the basement containing weapons of a different kind. Guess it would be safe to say these were biological and chemical in their making. The austere chamber was shelved by, rows upon rows, of holy water, elixirs and equivalent ingredients to create a range of toxic vases to deal with sprites of all degrees and types.

Sparda gently positioned Nero's body on the unadorned wooden floors and took the chalk from his calculating blackboard mounted to the corner of the room, a practice that had become progressive over time. The knight constantly updated and amended his formulas to make these usable potions that much more lethal. At the same time he could memorise and erase his research so it couldn't be stolen or easily replicated. Knowledge was power?

The white chalk was used to circle and contain the deranged youth as Sparda whispered an indestructible enchantment. The boy could not cross the white divide, including his light, as it seared and singed the floors...black. Living for millennia's had its considerable benefits and being immortal meant you had plenty of time to expert your creative arts? Sparda knew he was putting his family under threat by housing an explosive boy that was not only unhinged but evidently beyond his help. It was unlike him to make choices that would leave any room for harm when it came to his personal household. Sparda's maternal fingers scoured the dishevelled tresses to get a good look at the depleted youth, deeply absorbed, deeply torn by the insight that he wished to protect this child, shaking his head in rising anger.

"These mortals are truly..." discontinuing.

As with all races there were some good and some very bad people in every realm. He was being exceedingly insincere, for he too was once considered to be the worst kind of demon. The divided knight teleported to his chamber in order to retrieve the blankets situated inside his wardrobes, returning to drape the young devils beaten figure. The next tough task was to renew the scene of the crime which he teleported to correct, Sparda flew and devil-triggered. The most majestic looking devil grazed the sandy shore with colours of appealing red and purple, fortified with four transparent and shimmering wings of deep indigo. The curved horns a dusky black. Summoning his dark power's to mend the ruined scenery. The adrenaline of the prior battle had cured his devils earlier ailments. The need to fight and conquer was harder to stifle within his carnal side that was by now beautifully awakened and invigorated. Working tirelessly to make the necessary restitutions and soaring down to the earth upon completion.

Sparda panted and de-triggered to watch the perfect sunset, collecting the boy's washed up weapons and his unusable mobile which could only handle depths of 1m. Man has the tendency to make products that had a short life span, like them, examining the shotgun that had been diced to make it extra deadly. The rapier was mechanised to produce those flimsy sparks. Both man made and utterly useless compared to the devil arms that ruled their home. It was a shame that such a wonderful part of growing up with a sprite had been snatched away from this youth. He was finding it difficult to detach himself from this dangerous child, recalling his now dormant knife-edge that had been with him since they were children. He could still vision Sparda in the distance, that red velvet coat, the aristocratic white shirt, golden hair with indulgent curls cascading to his shoulders and those tranquil blue eyes. How he missed his edges presence that no other in his life could ever fulfill. Certain relations superseded all others. Perhaps it was he who could never part ways with his edge. Sparda vacated the darkening beach as the sun descended, returning to the dark chamber to find the youth awake.

Nero was rocking back and forth on his tightly wrapped hunches. His claw sketching the rims of his borders leaving them sparkling with heat but it was if the boy didn't feel any pain, the talons turning black...which explained the other riddling scars. Demonic blood had to be consciously summoned to cure ailments. This child was out of his mind...broken. Sparda pushed his fingers rearwards and Nero raised his head...eyes vacant. Using his human hand next which sizzled to the bone making the one watching march towards the shelf's to retrieve the dried hibiscus. The knight scattered the flowers on top of the borders to induce healing. For some unknown reason this flower could trigger the demonic blood properties and he was still studying the answers to why. Nero's fingers were healing where they touched the dried petals. The cycle of pain and mend was circular...it was disheartening to envision such struggle without being affected.

Sparda sat opposite to observe quietly, "do you have a name...child" fluent.

Nero lowered his head to unwrap the folded hibiscus, mute. Sparda leaned closer to see if he would attack. The teenager was submissive. Confinement inside darkened rooms meant safety and his hour to lay uninterrupted...taking another dried flower to unravel...he had never seen these before. Sparda rose to open another bottle that would be appreciated even more. This was a rare treat that all devils enjoyed equally...a vitality star. Removing the seal to extract the green coloured globe offering it to the one whose flesh had been mutilated. Nero gasped the flashing star which averted his hand towards his pulsing devil arm where it immersed and evaporated into his crust.

Sparda was fascinated, there was so much he wished to try and discover when he noted the time. The oblivious ladies would be returning shortly. He decided to leave the lethargic boy whose incarceration had been wholly unplanned. Sparda tested the seal, owing to his perfectionist nature when Nero's human fingers brushed his warmer ones in the middle of trying to collect another blossom. As the dealer of this curse only he could transgress this boundary.

Sparda smiled and squeezed his fingers lightly amid his, "your arm...is truly remarkable".

"I had never imagined the possibility of other hybrids" examining his curing nails.

Nero's fingers curled inwards and he stared dead eyed. The smile vanishing from Sparda's lips, the haunting gaze was troubling him, deciding to leave. How did their quiet vacation turn into such rampant unknown? Glancing over his shoulder as the quiet detainee remained stock-still, even as the room clicked into black those tragic eyes filled with turmoil continued to stare his way and oh how they stirred a father's paternal heart. He was finding it extremely hard to stay away from his latest discovery.

The knight worried, "Eva will..." deciding not to tell her until he had come to a resolution.

Sparda tapped the button and the bar revolved. He sat on the stool with a tired huff and made himself a dry martini, garnishing his drink with an olive and sipping.

"You really are a tricky bastard…Luci", blaspheming his cursed brother and downing his drink to get changed.

This pet name belonged to one that was even more famous then him and for all the wrong reasons. If only the nephews knew who their indisputable uncle really was?

Eva tried to call Sparda, fidgety. It was unlike him not to pick up. The car was full of small bags filled with souvenirs including jewellery, spices, teas, textiles, decorations and an array of packaged food treats. Eva had walked so much her feet were swollen badly from the heat but she had persevered and managed to buy gifts for her entire family including Rebellion, cuddling the cute teddy bear that had bourn an exact replica of Ballou, Dante's beloved bear and loyal childhood companion that had been sadly mislaid.

Nevan was busy trying to arrange the brought goods between the seats since the bonnet was chock-full. She had been burned in the heat, having forgotten her umbrella, applying the Aloe Vera that the mistress had thankfully packed. This was just a farce of course since her skin would heal but normalcy had to be kept in front of other mortals. Eva raised her sunglasses which had imprinted her burned nose. Like Nevan she had realised too late that she too had toasted. The vamp smeared the tips of Eva's nose and scorched cheeks.

"He may be napping" judging the blondes worried gaze.

Eva rubbed her swollen feet, "he always calls" nervously tugging her necklace.

Anxious eye's watching the empty road as if this would increase the remainder of their journey. By the time they touched home the sun had long set. Eva rushed out of the car, pitching her sandals as soon as the jeep halted to a stop inside the driveway. Leaving the competent vamp to tip the driver and arrange a sneaky date to see him later. Transporting the gift's that had been sadly long forgotten excepting the bear.

Eva hurried up the steps on her tips and entered rapidly from the balcony which was open. Wheezing and rushing towards the bed, smiling and catching her uneven breathes. Sparda had indeed retired to bed early, reclining on his left side in only a pair of white briefs. Eva climbed quietly onto the bed and snuggled into her husband's enormous chest, heart still matching her strides awakening the gentleman who had dozed off, Sparda had never been a big drinker and this secret was only ever shared with his blade. One martini hadn't quite been enough at the time.

"Your late" wrapping her snugger, half-asleep.

Eva pecked his nose, "I missed you" stretching her tired and slightly cold feet and siting them onto his warmer ones making the knight flinch but accept them wholeheartedly.

"Have you eaten" while stroking his chin.

The knight sighed "am not hungry...Evie".

The blonde told-off, "I knew you wouldn't eat, where's your mobile, you know how worried I was?" Glancing at the side table where it was always kept, "weren't we going to call to check up on them. You promised me?"

The despondent hubby notified, "I may have misplaced my mobile, you may call the boys on your phone tomorrow" easing her into his casing.

Eva wiggled out of her comfortable hold to search her bag. Her battery was spent. Where was the annoying charger?

Irritated, "mines dead" counting the hour difference, it was probably 3.00 a.m at home.

Eva snuggled back into Sparda's waiting arms, too tired to get changed out of her outfit, "how was your day darling?"

Sparda reviewed his bizarre day and the one that had turned up in his life, out of the blue, hoping it was just a bad dream. He hadn't made up his mind about whether he should reveal the secret hidden in the basement to the Mrs considering the high-risk implications of doing so. Eva would get hopelessly attached to the lost cause and most definitely not allow him to slay the boy that bore such a striking resemblance to his own prodigies and was just as unique. What could he do for that hopeless child? Send him into one of his own research facilities, conduct tests and then what...keep him trapped there for the rest of his adult life. Isn't that how he had been brought up...in confinement? This nameless child had nowhere else to go and quite possibly was too hazardous to be kept alive. What future did someone have borne out of hate and tragedy? How could he deny...he himself was already attached to the boy in the basement?

Eva reviewed the crinkles forming quietly on her husband's temples and quieted, no longer awaiting his reply. Sparda was hiding something from her. They had lived as a couple long enough to be able to gasp the slightest alterations, hugging his midriff...suspicious. Her sharpened women's intuition noticing her spouses subtle changes and shifts. Eva's fingers outlined her husband's wrinkles until they smoothed out. Sparda was having trouble staying awake now that his cherished had returned. A part of him wished to reveal his latest troubles to his loyal partner when he was lured into the depths of slumber. A woman's touch was truly heartening and supremely irresistible.

Eva was left wide-awake. The sound of a mosquito hovering beside her ear made her quietly equip a plush cushion next to her head. They had forgotten to unbind the curtains that acted as natural barriers against these little bloodsuckers, covering Sparda's body with the sheets. The last thing she needed were indestructible pests swarming her, carefully detaching from his protective arms to release the white knots on each pillar when she noticed the neglected teddy bear on the floor. Eva slipped out of bed and picked it up when she noticed something peculiar. Stepping out onto the breezy balcony and gazing down towards the bar. The glass bottles and all the crystal wineglasses were pulsing azure. Eva leaned over to see if the floor lights had been switched on, they had but their colours were not indigo but modest silver. Squeezing the soft toy she trotted down the illuminated steps towards the cause, investigating the area around the floor to discover the light was cascading from a space in the ground, confused.

"How could you Sparda?"

Offended, she knew her private husband had shelters set-up but was never allowed inside. Eva hadn't known about this one, checking for a switch under the bottles, along the shelves, near the pool's and even the garnishing shrubs to be rewarded with a few nasty bug bites on her bare legs. About to give up when she noticed the one thing she hadn't checked, the snooker table. Wasting no time she slipped underneath to check every crook and cranny to locate her reward. Excitedly reaching for the switch and halting. Sparda would most definitely not be pleased but it wasn't the first time she had entered these hidden places without her husband's consensus. If anyone hadn't guessed by now the curious and rampant nature of Dante's were his mother's inherent traits which had been passed on.

"Just a peek" she told the silent bear with glazed eyes.

Sneakily crawling out to check Nevan's lights were off...they were. The vamp that was situated in the other bungalow right next to theirs had snuck out on her private date with the driver as soon as they had retired to bed. There were some things that couldn't replace human blood and although the vamp had quit her beastly ways she still surged here and there on vacation, promising not to kill her mortal victims in the process who would be indoctrinated to forget their seductive encounter with the frolicsome enchantress.

Eva crawled out and thumped the button, the bar creeks and unravelled the forbidden passage. The enticing light was unleashed and bathed the entire area. The overwhelmed mistress withdrew ever so slightly, the luminosity were nothing like she had ever seen, for their flare was like a lamp that was burning, rising, and dipping, all on its own, as if it was a living, breathing light. Squeezing her accomplice and gazing upwards towards her husband's direction that lay numb.

"Just a quick peek" she whispered again and embarked the looping steps with bare feet.

Clutching the railing, her beautiful frame touched down on the last step to be rendered shocked. Eva had not anticipated the source to be physically alive, inching closer towards the centre of the room where the teen lay motionless. The blanket couldn't conceal the white strands that had become filthy and tainted from their ritual abuses, neither the arm that was drawing a concerned mother towards a bruised body.

Eva's tears seemed abruptly as she adjusted to the flaring light. She was crying at the sight of the teen that resembled such a stressing resemblance to her children and yet was nothing like them. The teddy she was gripping fell out of her gasps and hurdles to the floor, awakening the one in numbing sleep. Nero rose with subservient eyes. These desolate blues had seen their fair share of ruin, death, and destruction but never tears. Eva crouched as if her world had just collapsed, unable to think straight. Why had Sparda hidden this boy here from her...unless...whimpering...unless he had been cheating on her and this was his illegitimate son? Her heart refused to believe the only plausible explanation her mind could conjure. Sparda would never deceive her, twisting her diamond ring fearfully.

"You" biting the inside of her mouth angrily.

The mysterious youth stretched for the item she had dropped. The teddy bear had caught Nero's barren eyes and he couldn't cross the chalk to retrieve it, fingertips burning and sizzling as he failed to procure the item yet it didn't stop him from repeating the painful process, all over again, having become immune to pain, long ago.

Eva stopped crying when she smelled the scent of his burning flesh, clasping her chest tightly at the pitiful teenager who looked utterly wrecked, smearing her tears roughly to get a good look at him. He was definitely the same age as her son's, maybe a few years younger...yet somehow so much more...breakable. She couldn't believe Sparda had left him here in such a bad state. The boy needed help. Eva smeared her painful waterworks with both hands and dipped on her knees, undecided on whether to confront Sparda right here, right now...watching the silent teen with a look of devastation.

"Who are you" her shaky voice barely managed.

Nero didn't counter, tilting his head to get a better look at the fallen bear which remained painfully out of his reach.

Eva rubbed her drippy nose, heavy eyelids downcast. She inched closer absent-mindedly. How many times had her children dropped their toys for her to retrieve them automatically? The mother slid the teddy bear closer to the teen that desperately wanted it. His devil arm did not scare her, for this plucky mortal had become accustomed to the realms of darker fairy tales...undaunted. For her knight in shining armour was a part of this obscurer world. There was nothing to fear about a realm she had come to madly love. Oblivious to the danger she was so persuasively in. The boy may look fragile but his target had always been her and unlike him she could cross the threshold where he was now trapped. Deliberately withdrawing his fingers so that she may come closer, head lowered to conceal his twisted smile.

Eva crept closer and nudged the bear towards his talons sympathetically, her pretty knees and pants dusty, "are you...OK" she asked gently having seen the numerous lesions on his human arm, troubled by the brutality it would have taken to inflict these scars on one so young and abandoned.

"Where...are your parents, honey, and how...did you get here" noticing the enchantment Sparda had so subtly created.

The years of living together had made her a little more cautious and clued-up. She knew her husband had very real and persistent enemies that were incessantly following her family and wishing them harm. If only they knew it was her who worried the most for their well-being, despite their immortal status and her fragile humanity. Nevertheless, this all so familiar adolescence could by no means be considered one. He was too much like her younger son whom she was missing dearly and had only left alone for her trust in her handsome older one. Was this the end of their family? Sparda's infidelity...divorce?!

"Vergy" she whimpered in loss.

Nero widened his riddled and cracked lips and this time those soft blue eyes stared right into her crystal clear ones. Eva quieted...unable to break away from the teens penetrating gaze, her mind unexpectedly blank. Why did these haunting eyes look so sad, so very lonely, and desperate, she lowered her head and this time she pushed the teddy over the immovable singed chalk, far enough for her fingers to have overstepped their bounds and reached his. Nero's palpitating light curled her unsuspecting wrist so she couldn't get away. Sparda had forgotten to thwart a human from over-passing this gulf and this rare mistake would prove to be his ultimate downfall.

Eva screamed.


	10. The Road Trip

Alex curbed the bend that had left him on a cleft path towards spiritual awakening, giving his casual ensemble another fidgety look over. He hadn't done his laundry rounds, since he hadn't quite left the house, opting into his, "you've been served" t-shirt, denims and time-worn converses with some serious scrutiny, trying to scrape a splodge about his twitching knee. Why was he feeling so anxious? Even after smoking the last of his "goodies" he was unusually apprehensive, thumbing his sexy piercing. The green Deity was yet to bless him with ease.

Adjusting his black headband, removing it, putting it back on...was it too girly? He had worn it in an attempt to smooth his frontward bangs...and to shamelessly look a little cooler. The hermit-like mortal had taken the liberty of downloading the discography of the band that his new mentor had taken a shine to. Skipping to the track they had had listened to "high"...tapping the dashboard and checking the time on his portable when he was startled enough to make his overwrought heart smack against his strained chest.

"Why the fucks…are you wearing this…shitty outfit!"

The prejudiced opinion echoed beside his ear.

Dante had appeared, out of nowhere, and was seated in the passenger seat, looking stylish and riled. How could he forget his pal's present get-up? It was the same one his schizophrenic mind had conjured during his, all too real, bee and tree rape happening. The last thing he needed was a vivid reminder of having looked like a total "boob!"

Alex gaped, "how the...!"

Spinning his head, they weren't alone. The backseats were evidently occupied with two very unique passengers. The most mesmerizing girl he had ever encountered was seated appealingly beside a massive mutt that looked utterly camp. "Whoa…!" Unable to grasp inside his braked brain what was presently trending...a hell of a lot of bleached hair and probable animal abuse.

Dante fast-tracked the bizarre intro, "that's my cousin, Mato, from Japan, here for a few days, pooch's…hers".

Ebony rapidly stared his way, offended, Dante scratched his chest dispassionately, "Alex" poking offhand towards his staggered buddy to conclude their rapid and equally stroppy introductions.

Mato met politely, "kon'ichiwa" to which Dante and Alex gaped inanely.

Ebony barked having been insulted in front of a rancid, second-rate human, about to talk to Mato whom clamped his snout shut, knocking his sunglasses off. Inflamed orbs peeved, directed at his uncaring and impolitic owner. Luckily the spaced-out mortal boy was too busy addressing the main issue at hand to notice the doggy was in fact a demonic firearm.

"Pooch's gotta go D", under his breathe.

This was not what Alex had in mind, at all. The last thing he needed was a log in his already filthy car, keeping a polite tone, not wanting to throw a tantrum in front of the unacquainted Mademoiselle who owned the cos-playing pet.

The red devil viewed shiftily, "what the fuck is with your hair"...sniffing..."you wearing cologne?"

Alex mislaid peace, "fuck off D, first you drag me out and don't even..." preventing a stand-off, having learned from historical let-downs that the said dick would always get his way, saving himself the extra effort of whining.

"Where to..." wanting to get the outing over and done with, abruptly wanting grub...Godzilla like munchies were oncoming, resolving into his depressed outlook?

Dante glanced over his shoulder. The specs were back on Ebony's livid face who continued to snarl his way. Mato whispered into his fleecy ear and he reduced his hostilities. The reason for this outing was made clear; they had to locate his brother's whereabouts. The canine knew the only place the weakling would choose to hide were the woods. The sooner the task was achieved, the faster they could disband from this useless outing. The raging wolf snuffed the air for the trail of pelt and blood, a low inaudible grunt to convey the route they must take. Yamato encrypted and counselled. There was only one place of wild refuge located on the outskirts of the City. A nature reserve named after God's divine garden.

"We need to visit the Eden reserve, I've heard so much about it", piloted idyllically, stroking the hounds pelt much to his abomination.

Yamato would be babysitting the boisterous group of men whether she liked it or not.

"I hope you can take us", with a glowing smile.

Alex gripped the steering, "it's an hour's drive…" reluctantly.

Giving Dante a dirty look on the sly as he changed the track to one he liked, adding to his dipping vein. Deciding to ask about the person he had really come for, seeing as, he may never get the chance again.

"Is Vergil home..." the prying driver queried casually?

Vergil's name silenced everyone inside the vehicle. A fluctuation of insidious emotions fluttered and soared like that of a butterflies wings. Either that or it was Ebony's tail twirling as he tried to squat the annoying fly that had entered through the smudged window. This car smelt of the human's puny scent and junk food, smashing the buzzing pest with a twisting loop of his outstanding fur. Who would have thought that one of the most sought after firearms was fated to be sat here...forlorn, pitching the poop eater out.

Dante tilt, "say what...!" eyes rapidly discerning into doubtful slits.

Alex droned sarcastically, "Vergil…your twin…the one you never t-mph", face squished by possessive hands before he could offer any summaries of their chance encounter.

Dante shushed, "when the hell did you meet my bro...!"

A retaliating leg walloped his chest.

Alex rumbled, "I messaged you the other day and what's with your bro-con mood", deadly perceptive.

Dante flustered and seized his ankle, yanking, "you ass, so this is why you're dressed up", just as sharp.

Undoubtedly his best friend had fallen prey to Vergil's aura that could make the trajectories of straight arrows bend and curve to his redoubtable will. It was bad enough that his private devil arm was love crazed that he needed any supplementary fans from his personal network to be added to Verge's secret admirers list…erratically possessive.

Alex blasted in broken French, "connard!" (asshole).

"Tu me gonfles" (your pissing me off!)

The immature squabble was escalating. The serious backseat passengers gazed at each other. Mato had no alternative but to assist. Reaching over she clutched Dante's reddened ear and twisted. He recoiled and released Alex who climbed back upright, headband sliding across his fuming face.

Mato freed, "if we do not hurry, he may change locations and in dusk we may lose his trail altogether...focus" reinstating regulations gently.

Dante gazed at Ebony who was equally unimpressed over his clowning, "whatever" doing his belt, sulking.

Alex drove, flinging the headband out of the gap, "last time" the vow to never come out again…ever.

Vergil alighted from his flashy bike with burning ears, someone was remembering him? The attractive devil was situated in the privacies of a secluded backstreet, just on the outskirts of China Town, protecting his ride with a simple seal, quiet Rebel in toe, watching his every move with trusting captivation. Vergil bound his floppy hand and led the rapier in the direction of a shop, entering from the back door, circumventing the enchantment he had made with an utter of soft Latin to arrive safely inside the deceptive premises, the scent of burning incense and familiar doorbells jingling their advent. The items on sale were all botanic in nature, used to cure human ailments from arthritis, back pain and common colds. Rebel was intrigued by a colourful jar of viola as his owner reviewed the unmarked cash register.

An elderly male climbed the steps of the basement, clad in traditional black clothing. The last descendent of the house of Zhang welcomed his guests with a warm smile. Although most humans lived oblivious to the existence of supernatural realms, there was some who knew of its vast legitimacy. This family of assassins had once served the Chinese Dynasty, solely operating to shield the emperor from peculiar harm...chiefly sorcerers and devils alike. These unique warriors had gained knowledge of all existing demons. Their hunting practices had earned them the name of the "invisible army" for they had reticulated ways to hunt fiends of all classes. This sacred knowledge of dark arts had been handed down the bloodlines which was nearing its expiration.

The battle that had been waged against humanity had been won by a fighter that had unexpectedly arisen from the contradictory side. Sparda had been commended as the true saviour of the human race by those that had the privilege to fight alongside him. The pledge to serve his descendants was still engrained in this household, as decreed, by the last Emperor. The legendary knight had gained alliances from all corners of the world, East, North…South and west. There were no divisions and neither any fraction for the preceding clash had been a universal one and it was far from over. The jealous angel that had fallen from the heavens would never cease his desire to crush mankind, once and for all.

Yin bowed deeply for the arrival of Sparda's prodigy whom had frequented his workshop on many occasions. Dante had refused the visitations, having no interest in learning about the power of herbal crafts and infinite magic. Vergil greeted with a deeper bow, lowering his crown in deference. The smaller man patted his head tenderly, tottering towards the one who was still preoccupied, having assessed the sprite from a distance, a lineage of the magnificent thunder blades. Alastor being the most famous and illusive...this particular vane had never been caught by anyone, pedigree in his making and design, uncatchable.

Rebel's ancestors too had engaged in brutal combat for survival. Devil arms were the most sought after weaponries, for their specific elements yielded immense power. Humans could never exercise their control so they too had been dissolved and dissected to gain a wealth of knowledge. Past times were barbarous, for many demonic bloodlines had been made extinct by man, similar to the ongoing struggle of all the beasts that treaded God's plentiful earth. Man's insatiable greed and corruption were continually rotting their creator's divine routes.

Yin unbolted the jar of viola. The obsequious youth finally noticed the frail and dying man, with mild uncertainty. He had never dealt with humans so stood stock-still, eyeing his owner for support as aged hands gathered a hand full of the inexpensive plantlets and dropped them inside the young sprites widened palms. Yin motioned to his mouth for instructions to which Vergil slant in salutation. They were to be ingested to clear his Chi which was coiled and knotted, blocking his true aura. Rebel stared at the pretty floras when he noticed the unfamiliar world outside the dusty windows. A multi-coloured festival of tints was pending...smiling as a flashy dragon of blazing red and blue danced to the sounds of rhythms and beats.

The ageing gentleman paced slowly towards the counter. Vergil sat down on the opposite stool, producing a cloth immersed in dry blood, handing it to the older man for careful evaluation. It was a part of his robe, encasing Ivory's spilled blood which he had swabbed.

"He's escaped" the only explanation.

"I require a pursuer"...lips tightening.

"Father, doesn't know", hoping to keep it that way.

Yin smiled, dark eyes glittering as he retrieved the book of old for identification, lengthy grey beard grazing the records edge. Vergil skimmed the contents for the relevant drawings of Ivy's ancestors. Blessed with a photographic memory to recall these vivid details and digest volumes in one timed sitting, a page resembling an ancient wolf heralded, tapping. Yin examined with the tips of his fingers to trace the aged paper, virtually blind in both eyes. Opening the drawers to retrieve a rusty key and limping down the steps. Vergil rotated to view Rebel whom was still erect in the same location before descending the stairways not catered for his lanky frame. The space was virtually a stock room with mounds of products and cobwebs. Yin was transporting a small wooden crate concealed under an ancient black cloth, stamped with the imperial red seal.

This birdcage had remained unaltered since the dawning of time, for the legend prophesied that only a certain kind of blood would awaken the quiescent one that was fabled to be the greatest treasure any man could ever possess, handed down from generation to generation of men with very short life spans. This immortal creature needed an eternal home which only a household of prestige and reverence could uphold, along with the keys to his heritage. Yin's time was nearing and who else to entrust the knowledge of his ancestors but to the Sons of Sparda. Both items were passed to the one who could handle their prosperity, without corruption. Vergil assessed with worry as he held the keys, querying evenly.

"You are in good...health?"

Yin bobbed his head. He still remembered the first day Sparda had bought his intriguing son to his shop, just 12 at the time. Vergil had mastered the entire assortment of floras, faunas, and collection of demons, in one silent and absorbed sitting, a serious child with a thirst for immense power. Absolute power could corrupt even the most spiritual of souls yet he had chosen this child to accede his greatest legacy. Yin removed the cloth to reveal an ordinary egg, auburn in tint. Countless men had witnessed it in the same ordinary light for the sleeping creature had yet to find a suitable match. Hopeful the day had come to see it for what it truly was, unlocking with a click.

The blue devil eyed the egg curiously. A tracker was a creature akin to a gecko that could help hunt all classes of demons. The reptilian serpents embedded the flesh of the hunter by curling their wrist and directly transmitting the signals to their nerves. These scavengers drank the blood of the chaser as return and thus had a relatively short life span, less than 24 hours, dropping off the pursuer's skin, dead. Learned mortals had bred these minor sprites in enormous numbers for this specific purpose but he had never beheld one as an egg, slightly puzzled.

Yin extracted the ovum and laid it above the black cloth, instructing by pressing his thumb to his forefinger with an eager smile, the wrinkles on his face squeezing in anticipation. The blue devils snowy brows crinkled but he did as directed, pinching his skin to bleed a drop of his elixir that dripped onto the lifeless egg, vanishing. A beam of sparkle illuminated and dulled. The shell reacted by splintering and cracking, the egg enclosing a myth of magical proportions was finally emerging, one that was said to make an ordinary man a King if it soared to his sides.

The phoenix was shedding the last of its remnants for the one worthy of all her strength, the hatchling with a body of upbeat gold and eyes of extraordinary ginger rotated and struggled to free its entirety from the confines of its age-old shell. Erecting on scrawny legs, undeveloped wings speckled rubicund, just like its curving crown which beheld a Mohawk, chest exerted and puffing as it cheeped exultantly. Vergil stared utterly uninspired.

"It's a chick-en", the calm observation.

"You may have mistaken the…crates", the polite deduction of error.

Yin wasn't wearing his glasses.

The older man grinned and lowered his palms to the floor. The chirpy hatchling rotated, stepping like a graceful ostrich to mount his palms. Yin cried…overcome by the joy of having seen the true form of the myth he had guarded with his life, bowing. The baby bird was held up before the one who would obtain and exercise her powers when she was ready to bestow them on him. The unenthusiastic prince prevented. This wasn't the "item" he was here to purchase.

"I do not require…this…" he didn't wish to insult his mortal teacher so moderated his tone, "I will locate him with my devil. I suspect he will flee into the safety of the forest…"

Gazing at the hatchling as it widened its stubby wings to test their scope with a moderate glare. Observing the unusual cerise hues but logically deciding not to embark on his chase for a wolf equipped with a needless and undersized chicken, about to leave when Yin patted his jacket for the opening to his pouches. He lowered the fledging inside their snug containers, much to the younger man's disfavour whom was sighing at the realistic prospects of bird droppings. Everything else hidden inside these unassuming walls, as well as the remaining crates, was situated inside Vergil's digits with a nod, a master key which he was reluctant to accept, having grown fond of this silent man and all his preceding wisdom.

"My blood...may restore you..." the mutual offering of kindness.

Yin erected. He had lived a long, long life, refusing the Godly blood that had put the Sparda household in the gravest of dangers, for there was nothing like hybrid blood, escalating the staircases with difficulty. Vergil widened his pocket to inspect the hatchling that had fallen into a comfortable slumber. He had no choice but to take it with him, probable bait. The icy devil reached the top of the staircase to be greeted with desertion. The workshop was empty.

Rebellion was trapped in a flow of mortal bodies. He had wanted to get a closer look at the colourful dragon when he was swept along by the onrushing crowd. It was Chinese New Year and the party was in full swing, lanterns, confetti, dance and drums sounding, as the 20 ft. dragon whizzed and darted. 10 mortals were manoeuvring the gigantic puppet with gaping eyes and mouth that fluttered coherently as if it was truly alive.

Rebel tried to turn back towards the shop. Panic setting in, he was hopelessly lost in the mass as they clapped and whistled, getting shoved and pushed as they headed in the direction of all the bustling food stalls. Rebel broke free of the bulks to occupy a space beside a lady making candy floss, seating alongside the overflowing sidewalks. The shaky youth whispered his owners name in ache and huddled in a corner, clutching the velvet tightly in his fist that was crumbling within his shaky grasps. It was his fault. Why did he step outside?

"D-Dante", was the urgent whisper.

The red devil tilts uncomfortably in his seat. A stabbing feeling had clutched him, a restlessness he couldn't pinpoint...they had been driving for the last 40 min's, without any bickering, anticlimactic as that sounds. The easy-going driver was sucking on a lolly he had luckily found under his seat which tasted better than any pudding he could recall. Dante turned to gaze at Mato who was viewing the passing traffic with objectivity. The question was asked without thought.

"Hey…babe, can you sense when...he's in trouble?"

Mato knew who the "he" in question was by the quiver in the red devil's say.

"Yes" she sung in equal praise.

Dante sighed, "what do you…feel?"

Yamato unravelled her enigmas, "I can hear his every heartbeat...sense the change in his breathes, no matter the distance…I can always find my master", faithfully.

Alex stopped sucking, this convo should never have made any sense, yet it did? His senses snooping in on the ongoing "bondage" dialogue, coughing.

Dante speculated "does it work...both ways?"

Mato observed his introverted facial expressions.

Ebony's ears twitched awaiting her answer, just as intrigued.

"I don't know...for my master has never had to rescue me", the honest disclosure. Their intense relationship had never truly been tested.

Alex dribbled, "master!"...Guess the girl was into some kind of warped bondage play...now it all made a sense how she was Dante's cousin?

The red devil enclosed his eyes, boosting his demonic senses to utilise their energies, without triggering his devil. He had never tested his controls in the bounds of his mortal and demonic margins. Eyes increasingly red as he zoned in on the niggling feeling that had gripped him. It was as if Rebel was calling his name and he could hear it through the sounds of the deafening world that would normally drown everything else out. Where was he...following his rapiers whispers with transcendental insights? If Rebel could find him, then so could he…blinks slowly from his self-induced stupor, with widened eyes and growing self-consciousness? He could be wrong...this could be crazy but it was where he wanted to be at this exact moment.

"Let's grab a bite at Chinatown, my treat. Feel like chicken" the shrewd bribe.

Alexander spat the stick he had been chewing on, "now we're talking D", in agreement as the car sped, "let's do our usual stop". Entrance salivating over the all you can eat buffet hit he was so desperately craving. The herb Divinity had finally answered his hungry prayers, speeding.

Mato reclined uncomfortably knowing her master was situated in that very location. How had Dante guessed? Ebony wondered why mortals did nothing but eat like swine's and only ever think of their well-being…growing intolerably impatient with the trivial digressions. Once he caught up to his brother he would decide his fate, without their interference.

Rebel hunkered closer, with fear, gazing at the never-ending crowd towards the direction he had come from, in search of a singular face. He couldn't even cry for they would be bloody tears. Holding them back forcefully, hoping Vergil would find him when a little girl dressed in a pretty white dress eyed him curiously from afar, clutching her mother's hand who was buying her candy. Rebel gazed at their linking fingers with heavy eyes. Why did he let go of Vergil's hands...why was he so…"stuuupid".

Dante was snoozing in the hallway, too drunk to have reached the refuge of his room. The witching hour was the red devil's return to his sleeping family from inane partying and mind-numbing sex. Rebel awoke from the weapons chamber to his clumsy footfalls and reached his master's side to aid him before he could get into big trouble. His insignificant form was too frail to carry his holder the remainder of the way, so he patted his mane innately to awaken him.

"Buzz off would ya", the recoil from the cold fingers that tended to his every need.

"How many...times...do I have to say, I don't...want you" breaking his little blades heart who stumbles after his every altercation to reduce the escalating distance between their bodies and soul.

"Y-you is...be m-my...evie-t-thing" nervous.

His words make no sense for Rebel knows what only Dante can see, he's faulty...but how could he stop living for the one he existed for?

Dante arose from the ground, the scent of rosettes enigmatic as he staggers towards his room autonomously. The fidgety child accompanied a few paces behind, stepping on his ankle, in blunder. Rebel stilled and flinched. His master noticed with abrupt annoyance and notified with garbled sensitivities, glaring downwards.

"I hate you...you stupid lil brat", hiccups.

"I could have had Mato if it wasn't for you...that sexy babe...boobs", in a rotten mood.

Rebel didn't proceed, for even a dumb creature like him knew what the word "hate" implied. The entire world's evil had stemmed from this singular term. The devil had fallen, for he hated man...man had fallen for he had come to hate himself, both hell bent on the same road to utter destruction and ruin, a never-ending conflict. Rebel's tightly closed eyes wielded a singular blood tear, out of fear and desperation. How would he find his way back home? How could he change who he was? How could he make Dante like him? The dipping tear was prevented from falling, for the one to reach him was his master's equivalent. Vergil was stooped beside him examining the drop of blood. Rebel opened his pained eyes to view the one who was even further from his spreads and yet remained so dependably close.

Vergil was unhappy, "you left, without my permission".

Rebel squeezed the viola, "s-sorry…a-am, s-stup-pid", the brutally honest and heart-breaking statement. The one and only lesson he had ever learned about his defective existence.

"S-sorry", the even quieter apology, he didn't want to trouble the one taking care of him or be a liability..."s-stupid".

The elder frowned and clutched his grieving face, "it was simply a mistake", halting to soften his usual hard stance, "it is how we all learn."

Rebel clasped his hands uncertainty, blinking. His emotions were baffling when he thought about the person before him. Rebel had always wondered what Vergil's hands would feel like. He had secretly watched the blue devil train in the spacious ball room of golden chandeliers and mirrors, Yamato as his fitting opponent. He had never seen anything more spellbinding. They were truly made for one another, a perfect match of strength and beauty, as they effortlessly sparred. Rebellion clutched their textures, so warm, so protected...so privileged. Dante had never touched him...like this. Rebel lowered his cagey eyes at the painful insight, that he and Dante would never share this sacred bond, unequal. Vergil's fingers caressed his jaw considerately, easing his distresses by whispering words of inspiration, cheeks scraping.

"I know he used to address you by this...name. It is simply his affection…for you", the even surveillance.

It was okay to divulge these assessments, for the one he could so easily recite and discern wasn't here to overhear them, raising Rebel's chin with his thumb.

"He has a sharp tongue and is…rather dim-witted" confiding with a rare smile.

"This is why father chose the most patient, loving, and forgiving blade for him...you".

Rebel smiled brightly, with no return. No one had ever told him what he had needed to hear the most, that he was well and truly wanted and valued. Vergil lowered his hands inside his pockets and carefully extracted the unasked for hatchling that was still numb, its fluffy body curled, head limp as it was lowered into the rapiers hands for his amusement and pastime, the viola the perfect bedding.

"I want you to take care of…this bird when we enter the woods".

Appointing a simple task for his learning blade, having calculated he couldn't afford to have any additional distractions when they reach their appointed destination. Time was running short and he was very aware of the fact that he would have to call Sparda to ensure all was well.

Rebel's beam widened as he gazed at the smallest and most sparkling sprite he had ever seen, warming even his ice-cold hands, "y-you" his thankful amnesty and poise.

"T-thank…you" he would keep her safe from all harm, enfolding her softly.

Vergil was about to stand when he received a caress amid his tightly sealed folds.

"Iss" was the unfaltering say between their locked lips.

Rebellion had just kissed him, again. Their contrasting eyes addressing the burning scrape, as did the detached stranger's passing by. The spheres adorning Rebel's eyes were pulsing azure. The flustered blue devil hid their luminosities by concealing them under his hand. Rebel eased into their blinding touch, with nothing but want and love. What love was...he had yet to be tutored?

Vergil didn't know how to counter this escalating regard, scanning the bustling crowd of ordinary humans to clash with a set of eyes that only ever followed his every interchange. Dante was watching with throbbing heartbeats yet remained strangely expressionless. Mato was erected beside him, standing tall and astoundingly beautiful, even in ordinary garbs. Yet it was the ones accompanying the two that left him utterly confounded...the wolf and the human boy, eyes narrowing. Ebony growled from a distance, for the unique vanes that had pierced him still inflicted his flesh, pelt bristling at the spawn that had defeated him. Alex waved ineptly in mutual shock at the unexpected chance encounter.

Dante hastily made his way through the crowd of people as someone sprayed graffiti of colours mid-air. The red devil grit, fists clenched, his emotions were out of control and he didn't know what to make of them. How many people had he slept with in his benumbed consciousness? How many people had shared his flesh...fucking countless? Did Vergil ever hurt…the way he was hurting now, with irrational jealousy, bitterness and hate that was exploding from every pore of his perspiring frame like a toothed knife. Why did it have to be Rebel? If he reacted...violently, the game was fucking up and yet his steps carried him, reckless.

Yamato tried to seize his wrist, sensing what he was about to do. Dante snatched his hand away from her, shoving anyone that was in his way with enough strength to send them flying into the nearest body. Ebony shadowed his angry interchanges with equal belligerence, snapping at people to get out of their way, unintentionally clearing the path for the one who resembled a tempest. Their bodies were exchanging silent motions that only they could understand, a subconscious bond of possession had been secretly established.

The red devil reached his terminus. Vergil arose to address, lifting the covers concealing the young sprite that had unknowingly caused this heavy discord. Rebel remained seated until he viewed the face of the person he had wanted to see the most, jubilant. Dante had found him, clumsily standing, black pants dusty from sitting on the grimy pavements. The younger by a few seconds son of Sparda continued to stare at Vergil's lips in a daze. No words were ever exchanged. Rebel was sent crashing into the metal barriers, crumbling them. The lady who had been making the candy recoiled and spun as did the crowd that had observed the violent punch and devastating crash.

Vergil gazed at his fallen rapier to process what had just transpired. Dante had raised his hand against his own vane. This act was unjustifiable. The damage to Rebel was severe; the right side of his jaw had cracked. He tried to rise, collapsing backwards, disoriented. 

Rebellion opened his palms to view the one who had been unintentionally crushed. The golden bird, less than an hour old lay crumpled and dead. This time Rebel's tears seemed as he raised the tiny chick towards his blurry eyes in worry, stroking her limp form between his unsteady fingers as if to rear her. A blade ordained to wreak punishment had never before witnessed death. He had accidentally killed her. Vergil was enraged as he gazed down.

Dante came back to his senses, fast, viewing his bleeding knuckles that had splintered. He had mistreated Rebel in the past but had never, ever, raised his hands, eyes widened in utter regret, confusion and dread. How could he have struck Rebel? He hadn't been able to conceal his frenzied emotions, sensing a fluctuation of energy that was about to strike his cheek when it was abruptly halted. Vergil had raised his fist to channel an equivalent blow and Mato had prevented him. Her firm fingers had engrained her master's wrists. How could she not feel the same jealously that was burning Dante. Why had Rebel been allowed to cross the divide that she was so vehemently refused...why?

Mato had never raised her hands to the one she had devoted her existence for, repentant. Vergil's eyes burned into her with hurt, betrayal and repugnance. Mato felt every bit of his scorn, with courage, untying his riddled wrist slowly. Hat concealing her pained expression as she lowered to view the pitiful creature that was Rebel as he bled profusely about the mouth, still crumbled against the barricade. This ugly escalation was one she hadn't been able to prevent and neither avert…love was truly blinding and equally devastating.

The sound of police sirens signalled further turmoil as two officers got out of their parked vehicle. Ebony emerged beside Dante's leg to fend him, snarling at Vergil and the feeble weapon he had mauled. The atmosphere was charged with static testosterone. Rebel drowsily stared at his attacker who was gazing down at him emptily. 

Dante felt dejected. He had promised to make things right between them…to make things better…so why did it feel like as if he had just torn out his own heart and stabbed it? The divided red devil lowered his hand to his fallen blade that stared at his fingertips hauntingly. Rebel's eyes would always make him feel guilt but never before had they regarded him with doubt and fear. Dante's heart was pounding loud enough to echo in his ears. The thought of losing Rebellion had struck him and was too much to bear, about to bend when he was stopped.

"Don't…" the rejecting say from the one who could no longer keep his amity, "touch him!"

Dante's mouth widened in a whisper, "he's...mine, not yours".

"I won't let you take him…from me" amid sunken gazes.

Rebel was simply his toy that Vergil could never have, regardless of how badly he was treated. Dante was desperately trying to conceal his actions with his pride, with his ego…with his self-entitled ways, failing miserably.

Vergil didn't hear his defence, stooping to curve his arm about Rebel's abdomen and hoisting to leave the scene before it could worsen. He was about to lose his temper and if that happened the entire metropolis would know.

Ebony prevented, "spawn..." blood rousing his violent instincts to battle.

"You will fight...me", his unsolved rage venting as he shook to dislodge the silly garb of specks and bandana powering the fall-out.

Alex caught up to them, having missed all the prior action, "coppers D", prodding in the direction of the officers.

"Better haul ass", the objective proposal, patting his pockets rapidly to ensure he didn't have anything that would put him in jail...spotless, staring at Rebel in mild shock.

"Whoa…dude, you alright...what happened!"

Alex was sadly used to seeing this kind of bloody scene. People were serious jerks and alcohol the cause of most violent and stupid behaviour evident in all crowds, squinting at the unusual tats with lure when something more significant made his mouth half-gape in silent astonishment. Everyone's eyes were...well, not quite right, including the bloated dogs, slipping both hands trickily into his jeans, playing casual.

"Ah…" the murmur of total acceptance.

He had recently switched dealers, so his greens could have easily been laced with other shit he really didn't want to think about, coming up with a probable theory inside his migratory head. He had spent considerable time on the console last night and it had somehow triggered his brain to replicate the creepy eyes of all the freaky bosses, gazing at Ebony and snorting. The fluff ball looked exactly like the dog he had chosen to rescue at the start of mission one...yet he and brutally murdered all the cows and chickens, even though, he was a steady vegan.

Alex had been a total dick to the Spaniard farmers, shaking his head and noticing how close he was standing next to Vergil, snapping out of his abstractions. He hadn't said hello and he really didn't know what was going on since no one was chatting, trying to put two and two together. Dante had planned this from the start coz he had known Vergil would be here…right, weirdly happy with the thought of hanging out together as a group, covertly rubbing his short hair in muddle, guess they were all really worried about the dude who got hurt…and he must be Vergil's friend?

Vergil contradicted by brushing past him, entering the discreet alleyway that had been blocked by the fallen divider, taking a left and arriving at a dead end. He had never attempted to create a portal outside the confinement of their home for it required immense bouts of dark energy and exactitude, gazing at the connecting rooftops. He couldn't teleport to these for the gateway required direct connection with the earth's magnetic fields, lowering Rebel to seat on the pavement as he rapidly drew a minuscule circle by cutting his thumb.

The blue devil decided to reduce risk of error by creating a replicating doorway to safely connect with the one inside the maze. All atoms were essentially energy. The science behind these entries was very plausible. A purple vacuum circled into being like a pillar of smokeless fire. He would return for his bike and hunt Ivory unaccompanied. More urgently, he had to know for sure that the spell he had cast over his brother was well and truly indissoluble. Dante's actions had kindled doubt and inner rift.

"Ver-gil" Rebel called his unfocused guardian for help.

The blue devil gazed at the outstretched hands before him containing the chicken carcass, frowning.

"I-I…K-killed…" was the fatigued confession.

"I h-hurt…" drained.

Rebel clutched the dead bird into his chest, blood stained. Sparda's clothing was ruined too by his plasma.

"Kill" the desolate murmur of no hope as the chicks warmth weakened.

Vergil didn't answer. Perhaps he could find a way to save the chicken or at least perform its burial rights, distracted. He rubbed his temple profusely.

"Father..." was his tired appeal, pausing to collect himself and complete the chore. The purple void orbited, clutching Rebel's lowered head into his chest.

"We're going home", the quiet say of comfort as he reviewed the wound Dante had made and would most definitely require his intervention to heal.

Rebel curled into his restful figure, "h-home", despairingly.

A woolly figure was trailing their tracks. Ebony had caught up and didn't put off his bellicose slants, sneering. This stinking alleyway was the perfect place for retaliation. Vergil eyed him with fury and shielded Rebel by tightening his embrace. Dante had broken yet another rule and wrongly made this beast his own. Why he had chosen to do this, behind his back, made his temper rise lethally. He would have to reinstate the use of those thorns when the said annoyance entered his vision, out of breathe. How could Dante stay back after what he had unthinkingly done...a massive fuck-up? Vergil reviewed the larger hound that he had failed to approximately leash with a penetrating stare and a brisk parting insult.

"Mutt!" he entered the portal before he could lose control of his devil.

Ebony barked in offence and gave pursuit, bounding the walls he soared into the portal, crafting volatility. This doorway was solely designed to cater for two passengers.

"Crap!" The ruffled devil vied to gain access to the very unbalanced portal, vanishing with a loud cry, intuiting something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. This mid-day was about to get fierier.

Yamato was subsequent, gazing over her shoulder to ensure the coast was clear. The beauty had managed to divert the police officers by instigating a punch-up within the gathered crowd of men who had been lured to vie for her affections. The katana leapt like a sprightly gazelle before the entrance could shut, clutching her black hat.

Alex was next. He had sadly lost sight of everyone amid the scrimmage, faltering around the corner to bump into his newest findings. A bright nebula, from outer space, was conveniently located in the middle of the street…right?

"Aah?" He couldn't quite create a credible theory behind this one so decided to turn around and grab a table on the group's behalf when he was plucked into the whirling vortex as it expanded, spurt and finally sizzled out. The passage rapidly reverted to its modest and trashy state, litter settling.

If only they had known that waiting on the other side of this gateway was a prowling lion of theological magnitudes. Their doting uncle was ready to introduce himself to his estranged nephews and what a frightening meeting it would turn out to be?


	11. The Hostage

Dante beat his cracked lips, avid, reaching out to seize his water bottle positioned beside his bedstead, excluding, he wasn't in bed. Widening his eyes to the sight of a red kite inhabiting the titanic canvas of stretching indigo, in conjunction with a searing sun, so hot, he was roasting nicely. Has he been here in the past? Hooves struck the insecure ground beside his disoriented head, balking, as the black stallion fleeced his skull with his bell-shaped nostrils to rouse him alert. Snow neighed from a distance, beckoning. The black stallion dashed to his comrade's side to embark upon a race where time and space never arose...free.

Dante tilt his crown and watched their diminishing forms in perfect concord...which moment was a dream and what was his waking, blurry? The desert from his twisted and hazy visions had whirled into intense authenticity. Come hell or high water, he knew his current unwarrantable position couldn't be blamed on recreational drugs, having recalled jumping into the purple void of oblivion...panting like a dog on heat. Puzzled by where he was presently eagle-spread...a never-ending comeuppance. "Hot...too h-hot" hums of complaint as he rolls onto his belly, badly bronzed.

Dante gathered the courage to raise himself to his knees and snappily removed his clothes, flinging his jacket and top to find his forehead was red-hot. He retrieved the top sluggishly and tied it like a turban about his crisping head, milky chest about to get seriously tanned, contemplating his sticky jeans but deciding to keep them the heck on, quaffing. The panicky devil reviewed his barren locality by rising to sight the distended ridges. He was a minuscule grain trapped inside an hourglass. There was no one else here but him, reddening at the intimidating prospects and collecting himself silently. He couldn't be out here alone…could he? The others had to be here…somewhere, shouting the name of the solitary individual who always answered all his hysterical cries.

"VERGIL!" his voice echoed.

Miles upon miles of insusceptible silt shifted beneath his distressed feet as he hastily climbed a linking dune to get a better picture of the infertile landscape, reaching the tips to discover more golden sand and indefinite aridity. As far as his determined eyes could search there was absolutely no one else here, all alone. He tended his head the other way to find an unchanged scene, swallowing the dry spittle enfolding his thirsty lips. How long he had been out here, deciding to stay the fuck calm as his mind whispered novel developments of probable death. Eva despairingly weeping amid Sparda's arms in front of a skeleton carcass that was he made his dampness threefold.

"Get a grip", while delving in his shock as he stood stumped on what exactly to do next.

"Sit tight or take flight", the odd chant of slight alarm.

The red kite re-emerged in the empty vastness, answering his prayers, Dante's heart struck and allayed. Why did it feel it was a signal only for him? Dante ran as fast as he could in its way. He devil-triggered, thrusting his mammoth wings in its undoubted bearing. It was real; his mind never questioned its impracticality, neither the questionability of how it could be out here. He was hopelessly drawn to it, a shining beacon when he was shipwrecked in the dark, reaching and circling its vicinity, rubicund orbs tracking the brittle white string to see who was grasping it.

Rebellion was staring upwards with incredulous eyes, dressed in his green overalls and brown boots. The shadow of his enormous devil frightened the demure sprite that dropped the string in shudder. The kite glided higher, out of control. Dante soared stunningly to retrieve it before it was lost. He had to make things up to his edge and this was his only chance, gnashing as his trigger was almost expended, reaching with his talons and punching several holes in the paper before flying downwards with a thump, catching the item into his dripping chest with a silly grin. He contemplated Rebel whom was squatted in a tight bundle, upset.

Dante's smile washed-out when he noticed there was no kite and the one he was approaching was a full-grown adolescence, not the awkward child that used to tail his paces, chest narrowing. When Sparda had presented him with his measurable blade it had been based on the belief that they were enormously well-matched. So where had he gone so badly wrong? When had Rebel started to wane? Was it the same time he had…studying the cuts on his knuckle? The moment Vergil had cast his spell he had forgotten about his blade, his home, his family. Everything that truly mattered had become separated from his sight, slouching slowly as Rebel elevated his guarded head with a shocked sigh. He had awoken, all alone, after he entered the gateway. Vergil was not by his side when he had come into consciousness, still clasping the dead bird to find he was no longer alone. "D-Dante", was the muffled murmur of mild security.

The red devil blinked in quiet self-awareness. So this was how he could truly find his knife-edge, a connection that was abiding and defied all reason…blind faith. Dante gazed at the wound on Rebel's face that hadn't cured. The view stung deeper than anything he had ever experienced physically. His still bleeding hand was gradually laid over the mess he had made. The skin he had refused to touch and claim was making his body quiver with crushing guilt. "Reb..." was the quiet address of repentance as he gazed into the eddying emeralds before him. He now understood why these appreciations made him feel such fault and torment. Dante could see his reflection inside of them and he had come to hate what he had become, a failure…a complete fucking failure.

The red devil couldn't prevent the blood tears that leaked from the depths of his bare soul. His devil was weeping. Everything inside of him was coming apart, all at once. It hurt so much to recognize that Rebel was the only one who had never stopped believing in him and he had done nothing but wound him at every turn. Rebel had loved him unconditionally, in all his straying ways, in all his insults...swallowing the knot twining his chest when he remembered he had asked for his razor-blades eternal sleep. Dante accepted his errors, choosing his words of regret carefully, for they were about to fall from the depths of his heart.

"Am sorry...Reb, for everything I've done...to you. I shouldn't have fucking hit you, not even for...that", faltering. "I swear, I'll never do it again", the red stream dripped onto the silts. "Am sorry" the unburdening request for forgiveness.

Dante opened his eyes and lowered all the way to his laps. "I fucked up again…I know, you deserve better than me" smiling though his sting. Rebel could only stare in equal hurt and anguish, wordless. "I won't fuck this up again...for us, give me another chance...to prove it to you".

Rebel laid his feathered friend into his lap and clumsily smeared the thick tears from the eyes of the one who was causing his breathes to waver. "D-don't...c-cry", equally upset and shaken.

Dante gripped his hand and laid it to rest above his exposed chest. The world had only ever taught him to be selfish, fake and shallow, allowing his spirit to dictate his heart and mind. "I swear on you...I won't give you up". Rebel felt his master's heart rending. Unable to hold back his own blood tears, fingers clasping in awareness of the pain the red devil was in.

Dante quietly pledged "I..." clasping tightly before embracing his discarded blade by winding his arm about his head, fingers sinking inside the impenetrable tresses that had been stamped by his brothers signature colour, soothing his tense and anxious flesh. Rebel was exceptionally made to be able to merge within his skin. No other blade would ever share this sacred place. He had always kept his overlooked knife-edge at an arm's length, not now, not anymore. This dependency ran both ways. His fated blade had always been Rebellion, the only one who had kept him company in all his shitty moods, in all his failing ways. Rebel had never given up on him, never.

"I'll take care...of you" constricting his warm embrace persuasively as the other gazed upwards astonished, cramped inside his chest. "Your mine…only mine", was the tight-fisted reminder from the one who was changing all his rootless ways. "And so is he..." the angry self-confession for the man he brazenly loved and was willing to destroy himself for, "your both…mine…only mine" the impassioned self-immolation.

Rebel stared past Dante, his tattoo's gesturing the arrival of the one who had secretly overheard his demonstrative insinuations. Vergil's coat was absent, lean torso bare, black top wrapping his face as his astute eyes observed the scene. He had delayed his arrival, advantageously, to see what Dante would do. There was no doubt left in his mind that he had recuperated. How the boisterous devil had managed to break the curse was anyone's guess. How they had ended up in the middle of the Sahara Desert instead of their home was the bigger problem he had yet to rectify. They were both over their heads and sinking back into the masking liquids of secrecy, confronting the man before him like an idle stranger.

"You're quite the performer..." the even alert from afar of his crucial findings.

Dante didn't turn around, "your one to talk, bro", the unapologetic and unfazed address. If Vergil wanted a confrontation then he was ready for one, angry, bitter and aggrieved. He wasn't used to shamming his emotions. Even with the threat of being manipulated, forgotten, and wrecked he couldn't stop the agonised words from spilling between his clenched tusks. "The biggest liar and cheat I know...you", voiced steadily. "Ver-gilll!" addressed with excruciating hate and unbearable love.

Rebel felt the force of these emotions within the confines of the bordering arms clasping him tightly. Dante was struggling to contain himself, holding firmly to the source of all his silent strength to say what was crippling his heart. He had found the perseverance to confront the soul that had stolen a piece of him. Dante was about to confess his love for the man that had completely altered, ruined and rejected him…regardless of the guaranteed repercussions. "You...fucked with my mind...fucked with my heart and when I remember who I was and what I want, you try to erase me...again".

Dante turned to view his supreme and unblemished mirror, with contempt. "You know what I realised about you Verge? You were the bigger coward between us and still are. You kissed me...keep my drawing locked under your bed and with the first chance you get you try to bury everything that is precious to me" fresh tears seeping at the betrayal he had handled.

Dante's anger and resentment spilled, "and you know what the most fucked up part is..., that I still fucking love you...only you" spat broken-hearted. "So what you gonna do to me now...huh, curse me again, make me forget you, coz we both know...you feel the same way...for me, so what now?" Scoffs, "I don't give a fuck...you hear me..." spitting in cold rage, "I never gave a fuck about anything or anyone…but you".

Patently refusing to shunt his hearts most inner desires, even if they were considered to be morally wrong and deranged in the eyes of all those that knew him. It didn't matter. It had never mattered. This secret was only theirs to uphold and upkeep from the day they were born. "I'll always..." he prevented any more worthless words from spilling.

Rebel gaped at Dante's anguished face, nose dripping…eyes downcast and red. How was he to guess this illicit and painful expression of love was strictly prohibited between brothers, trying to smear Dante's endless tears whom shut his eyes, the costly blood descended into his skin but a few dripped and landed on the cataleptic hatchling cushioned beneath. In the confines of the Sparda household who else but Rebel could have noticed that Dante remained the most miserable and reclusive. He never admired the water fountains neither the bursting florets that defied all seasons, nor the dusty rays of heavenly light and secret passages that fenced their walls. He was simply a ghost, living in an empty shell, estranged from everyone and everything...alone. Rebel had stayed dependably close to ease his lingering sadness, no matter how badly he was treated, he had never left Dante's side, dipping into the grieving face with deifying ease to caress the lips of the one he had yet to impress and had waited an aching lifespan to do so...kissing.

"Iss" was the hushed hope as he tasted the salty textures of dirge that no words could ever convey. Rebel's second kiss of the day was for the one that he loved the most, this intimate salutation held no lust, no sin, and no squalor, for it was they who had taught him it's moral value…divine love and love like theirs was unparalleled and unsurpassed. Rebellion knew this touch would transfer the message that he would always be there for his master, even if he wasn't wanted, even if he was completely useless, hugging Dante's abdomen making him grunt at the strength being applied. Rebel laid his cool crown above the red devil's battling heart. He didn't want anything bad to happen to him, embracing with all his might.

Dante's lips stung from insight. "Kiss, huh", chuckling at why Vergil had been snogged earlier and feeling even more depressed at the hurt he had caused them, biting his lips to regain control…a complete mess. He was scared to lose this connection. Why did it feel he was tied to his vane by a brittle white thread that Vergil would so cruelly cut? Rebel sensed his pain and bore the brunt of all his crushing feelings, equally afraid. "Ver-gil", he called for support from the one who was unmoved by the heart-breaking confession of love. "Puh-lease…h-he…n-needs" the urgent appeal as Rebel clutched the one falling apart in his hold. The one being besieged observed impassively when familiar words struck his being from afar.

"Do what you want...with me…" expressionless.

Dante ended the ongoing and needless spectacle. The outcome of his admissions would always go unrequited. He would always be left to wonder in the dark. The void in his soul would never be filled. The fire that had been struck would be heartlessly dabbed. Like a moth to a flame, he would be the only one to burn, slicing his palm with his nail and smearing his blood over Rebel's puffy jaw to cure him. Would he forget Rebellion too when Vergil erased his memories, stopping with a heavy heart, bowing his temple over his rapiers brow, hesitating. "You better take care of him...too". The beaten dismissal as he steered closer to Rebellions lips to kiss them, osculating the doublings of the one that had always rescued him, even from himself. The red devil was kissing his blade goodbye with a heavy heart and even heavier breathes.

"You're too good for me, Reb" the quiet murmur, with a lifeless smile.

Rebellion stared sadly, "b-but…y-you is…m-my…"

Dante smiled and kissed one more time, "I know, you will always protect me…I know", conceding with an even sweeter caress over the cut he had made, "I love you", to which Rebel grew mute. Any lingering doubts, uncertainties and misgivings were erased with this self-effacing disclose. Their love had never needed words yet speaking them aloud had lessened his innate afflictions, for they were not only intended for his blade but also for the other person in attendance. A rose was going to be crushed inside an uncaring palm but how could it not emit a fragrant scent as it perished. Love was unalterable in its magnanimous nature.

Vergil's heart stung from their deliverance and insight. Dante's words had punctured his soul. Had he been a coward...perhaps, yet there was no denying that he hadn't found a moment of lingering peace since the day he charred that poisonous incantation and in doing so, destroyed their close bond. The plump child adhering to Rebel's arms glared his way with probing eyes. Vergil was being forced to answer for all his bad behaviour. His one-sided actions had been catalytic and catastrophic for his brother and his damaged rapier. Clarity came in the light of the eyes that were asking him to come closer, to make things finally right. Rebellion's caring stare was drawing him towards the route he had refused to take. The path he had evaded at all costs, for there were no rules, no bounds...simply chaos? The barriers he had built inside his heart were peeling and flaking. This fathomable void was shared and so was the intricate thread that draws them as one. How much longer could he deny his hearts whisper…to forget this world, to forget himself…to drown. Vergil removed the shirt concealing his thoughtful face and sighed in quiet defeat. Could he truly win from these two?

Rebel raised frontwards as he approached and sunk to his laps. The selfless blade placed the distrait bundle amid the blue devils waiting torso. The elder raised his hand to caress Rebel's curing jaw that abridged their soundless inclines, clasping to implant them over Dante's locks. Rebel had discerned healing and protection within their kindly gasps, sharing Dante's every secretive sentiment. They both loved and revered Vergil by the same token, smiling. The blue devil returned with the tip of his lips, one arm sliding to take back the puzzling impediment into his barren arms that had lain empty for so long, tipping Dante's red face so their unveiled gaze could finally encounter. The other stubbornly refused to look at him, mad. Vergil pressed roughly until they were eye to eye, enfolding the cheeks for eminence.

Dante shunts in a hostile way "do what you want, mnn!" The red devil's eyes puffed as a tongue was shoved into his mouth, severely. Vergil's brutal and furious kiss was staunch and well under way. "Nahh…aan…mmn…" were the muffled cries of shrinking resistance and clarity. Vergil's lips only detracted when his lungs were about to collapse. "Childish!" the insult to which he couldn't react as gruelling lips were shoved into his again, noses colliding along with tusks and crevices. "Mutt!" the added huff as his entrance was widened for profounder penetration and thrashing by a cavernous tongue that was leaving him sifted with tingling lesions. Vergil's hands cradled his face before ascending upwards to crush his head, "imp".

Dante gasped and grunt in dualistic pleasure and pain, trying to adapt some pace, failing. The one in charge regulated, without remorse, releasing to speak out of breathe. "Who else...but I...would be foolish enough to make an obstinate mutt like you, my own" the cold words of obligation and receiving, followed by a speedy nip to his muzzle. "Foo-issh" as he slowly released his bitten nose to observe the ruffled devil with blazing eyes.

Dante's chest was still throbbing from the verbal and physical abuse to be able to counter the eyes that were burning a hole in his soul, sceptical. What if this too was make-believe? Things had moved so fast it felt like a surreal dream, alarmed, gripping Rebel's hand that was lodged in the sand beside him. His preoccupied blade was searching for the little bird that had mysteriously vanished from his legs, troubled.

Vergil's mouth locked his in a slower osculation. Dante's fears abated slowly with every steady press…lick and suckle. It was as if his depths were dry, cracked and thirsting. Vergil's rims were the cascading rains. So this is what they call love huh, unquenchable? He had yearned for these lips as a child and had desperately chased for their palate in unending darkness. His start and end was fated in these pooled inhales, curving one hand behind the replicating neck, without dread, close enough so that even the breeze couldn't pass between them. Vergil's lips were softer then the rose petals that had showered their bed during their last kiss, breathes hotter than Ifrit's golden fires, hands and body firmer then the marble that glorified their home. All this…was his, only his, when his head flashed the necessary 'cautioning' sign before he could get swept away. Dante elicited and yanked Vergil's head of hair much to his astonishment and disliking, breaking their exquisite moment.

"What do you think you're doing...idi-mph"?

Dante cupped, "I don't trust you!" accusatorial. "The last time you did this to me, I couldn't remember shit" pissed, all over. "Where's my apology, damn it, you owe me one from" counting in his head and failing, maths wasn't his best subject. "From when I was six…" The elder had the audacity to roll his eyes to which Dante obscenely straddled him, "say it, and I want your word that you will quit cursing me, words of honour Verge", raising the blue devils hand higher to touch his crown. "Swear it on me!" resolute.

Rebel was tugged frontwards but wasn't listening to the continuing tussle. The "iss" he had watched meant everyone was friends again, shuffling sand with his free hand to find the out-of-place baby bird that was his responsibility, even if it was lifeless. He didn't want to fail in his one and only given mission, panicking. "V-Ver-gil, h-he…be" glancing side to side.

Vergil tilts his head and vaulted a brow to process, "mmm?"

Dante rumbled "mom and dad don't need to know what's going on between us, so make your pledge...to me" reluctantly removing his hand from the other's mouth.

Vergil paused before answering "you have my word".

The distrustful red devil pressed "take the oath" unconvinced, chomping the chin before him for added measure, "ak-it" (take it).

The elder prevented a chortle. He remembered this was how Dante had always resolved all their childish issues. Vergil bumped his head and whispered the unbreakable words of trust. "I swear, on you, I will never use my dark arts…" it was his lips that were sealed shut in absolute belief. Dante was devouring his mouth as if his world was about to come to an end and all that existed was this breathless instance. "You…" the compulsive whisper as he submerged his lips into Vergil's over and over, never enough.

"Me…?" was the seductive tease.

The red devil grunt and bit the inside of his mouth in indiscreet liking, shoving his opponent frontwards to take the plunge together. Vergil lost his careful positioning and tumbled backwards, knowing this irrepressible devil was well and truly out of control, rolling to end in a tangled heap of arms, legs and chests. Dante's lashes climbed the cheeks of his conquest, torsos hard-pressed as he gazed endlessly into the eyes that were his escape, hands climbing to lock with the fingers that had almost slipped away from him, twisting tightly. A grin so wide…it hurt when the ground blasted deafeningly beside them.

A pale and naked body had thumped in the sand, creating a crevice. Mato lay bleeding; her plaits were caked in blood along with her hands, tiny holes perforating her oozing flesh. Vergil was left dumbstruck as were Rebel and Dante. A gold spiral staircase materialised in the middle of the desert. A circular prism of transparent light created an arch on the 16th step. A screeching cackle of merriment erupted from their left. Sat on top of Mato's back was her invisible assailant, an entity of grotesque proportions.

"Howdy", a girl with human likeness took her material form. Mato's attacker was dressed in a ragged red dress. The girl was no older than twenty, tousled ginger curls dipping freakishly to her knees, her unsettling eyes had been sewn shut by black threads that corresponded with her equally black mangled wings, lust enriched, as she surveyed her fallen prize beneath, licking her poisonous black nails to taste. Vergil stepped frontwards with unkind fury. "Does she belong to…you?" while pointing towards Mato's jugular for threat. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, it's painful for...her", nail oozing a black liquid akin to sulphuric acid, forewarning.

"Don't be such a horny little bitch, Lilith" the fed up retort.

The girl in red widened her legs, "you jealous Ramah that I got to her first..." displaying her gator like teeth towards her empty right. Another form materialised beside the incendiary girl. Her stooping fraternal twin with equally disparaging black wings hissed, dressed in a brown tattered cloth wrapped about his hips, dumpy tresses unable to obscure the gouged eyes that had been plucked from their sockets, leaving gaping holes. The one he had captured was similarly riddled in stab for he had been muzzled and bound by a thorny leash of ethereal vine that now penetrated his thick fur.

Ebony whined as the dead eyed boy yanked hard enough to have him yelping and crouching submissively, trembling from the acid in the vines that were causing his muscles to painfully spasm, losing bodily control. The blind handler was about to retort when they all heard the sound of chiming bells, freezing, to stare at the top of the stairway. Their handler had just signalled his inconspicuous arrival and all present noted. How could they not, the hair on their skins had been elevated.

The divisible individual to become perceptible at the top of the staircase was far more theatrical. He had taken the courtesy to procure the mortal boy who wouldn't have survived the interaction with his rather ugly but efficient devil arms. A bloodbath was certainly not what he intended...just yet. His style of play had always been from the shadows and that is how he flawlessly performed. A man's black form moulded within the piecing of ravens feathers that were tinted gold. A haunting red Venetian mask, with prominent black tears, arose to façade the faceless. 6 distinctive gold bells were attached to the outer layers of his unidentified guise. It was as if he had stepped out of an ancient masquerade where his role was between that of a jester or perhaps a prankster. The person captive in his limbs was Alex, the only one unharmed and wide-eyed. The man in the mask addressed the one he had come for, pointing at Vergil with a slope of his veneer, black gloves bidding with his finger, eyes ashen. The seated girl conveyed telepathically her silent trainer's sermon.

"Has your father not taught you...Viggy, how dangerous it is to create a secondary portal, for it allows other demons in the vicinity to access your passage and alter its course" tickled. "Lesson learned" reproachfully.

The man in the mask nod slowly, maintaining his secrecy and peace, gazing at the terrified Alex who couldn't afford to look into his eyes again, trembling unspeakably when he was abruptly shoved over the golden Bannister to join the other captives. The hidden writing on the mortal's neck had burned his gloves. Vergil reacted, catching Alex before he could collide with the sand. Alexander continued to stare upwards in utter fright, unable to talk, think or rationalise, nearing fatal shock...straining to regulate normal breathing.

"Am going to dieeee", the definite murmur of fear and dread as the blue devil contained him from running away.

"You won't" the conclusive speech.

Alex wailed..."his...his eyes" squeezing Vergil's hand traumatized.

Dante had enough, "I hate these fucking...jokers" stepping up to deal. It wasn't the first time a crappy demon had turned up to ruin his life. The bastards were everywhere, like roaches, pointing with his finger to ensure a blitz of abuse when Vergil teleport to wisely cup his mouth shut, sensing just how powerful the demon falsely masquerading was.

"You must be Dante", Lilith's eager reply, getting the name right this time, playing with Mato's curls, "he says hell-o" to which the man in the mask waved like a magician about to perform a trick.

The blasé red devil gave him a rejoinder by the means of his middle finger when the anonymous mask transpired right in front of his eyes, without a frame, flying. The plumes of black feathers gushed and glided like spurting leaves, fashioning a rotary rapid, resembling a dark mass. The ear-splitting sound of husky laughter and polished silver circled into being. A swelling sea of Death Scythe took to the heavens with whirling sickles. Black transparent capes variable amidst the sands, their large skull masks adorned with bright red horns…their aura a flaming crimson.

Vergil observed acutely when his shoulder was thumped twice with a black rod embroidered with a serpents silver head. The man in the mask had transpired right behind him to exchange words of wisdom, only intended for his ears, bending to achieve the task. Vergil only reached his shoulder. The voice modulated like a seraphs chant. "I only...want to play with...you, so play you will".

Vergil rotated promptly to find a gaunt skull zipping past, gazing upwards as the man in the mask materialised on the back of a Sins cloak. It was as if only they were now sharing this telepathic communication. The warm voice whispered from afar, "Come with me…child" signalling with a dip of his rod and vanishing behind the cape like a dusky mist, an apparition.

Yamato raised her head having regained consciousness, spitting the blood circulating her mouth. She had been ambushed from behind and hadn't even seen her assailant. "Vergil!" she called to her master sensing the danger he was in. Staring at the grinning girl seated on her back, trapping her, fighting insentience, trying to crawl when she was pegged. "Quit being a wiggly worm" Lillith pout.

Vergil informed his weeping rapier of his imminent discoveries, "as above...so below" to which her eyes widened in dread. Unable to believe his verses until she witnessed the raven's feathers surfacing amid the twirling scythes and surfs of gloom. This was no ordinary power and could not belong to a mere demon. Their host was becoming mildly impatient, leaning on his staff with both hands. Dante's muffled curses continued but Vergil didn't let go. "I agree", complying for there was no way out.

The phantom swirled and tapped his stick in quiet triumph. A golden mirror of oval design transpired with a view of their spectacular home, signalling to the doorway. Lilith raised and skipped towards the gateway to validate their exits, fading inside. She returned seconds later with a bright red rose in one hand; her arm was well-cooked for her efforts. Sparda had reinvigorated their boundaries to keep these demons well and truly out. Any closer to their home and she would have turned to ash. Lilith could only pluck what was closest to her reach, without dying, handing it to her master who sniffed the glorious scent of what he had lost and so badly wished to retain. Dante bit Vergil's fingers viciously to give their joint feedback.

"Fuck you...bitch!"

Vergil yanked Dante's mane to talk some sense. "You are leaving with the others!" the final decision.

Dante tousled, "the hell...I'm leaving without you, after we just made up, and with this mega creep".

"D-Dante" Rebel broke up their fight. A sickle was embedded in his torso for he had made the fatal mistake to move from his present location. It had been snatched mid-air and flung viciously by Ramah. Being blind had its advantages, for all other senses were unlocked and made that much stronger. Rebellion yanked the sickle with his left hand and bled.

Ramah leered at Dante, "he's yours…isn't he" taunting.

The red devil exploded, "bastard!" triggering his devil in rage that soared through the whirling sea of black straight for his ugly target when he felt something hiking his back. The so-called joker was curled about his backbone like a tarantula. Their eyes connected. The devils flight was cut brutally short as he plummeted to the earth as if he had been struck by a bolt of invisible lightning. Dante collided with the ground, de-triggering with a snarl as his hair was snatched backwards, a scythe positioned inches from his collar. He was frozen. What had just happened to him? It was as if he had slipped into the chasm and returned without recollection. What kind of power...was that, dazed?

"Let him...go!" Vergil's phantom blades ignited the skies, eyes bloody and enraged. All his power was absorbed in this one attack, sapphire light blazing from his figure, right hand outstretched to command their mark. The hovering Death Scythe's retreated from his aura; they were scavengers, even as a rabid flock the power of a crossbreed was one they couldn't anticipate.

The phantom gazed vacantly at the pointed vanes as they tracked his every move. He slowly slopes to the left and they changed trajectory, next to the right and they matched, releasing Dante who lay sprawled, unable to move. The phantom transpired beside the elder to whisper into his ear. Vergil's vanes shattered. His face paling as he observed. Ramah and Lilith equipped their unique weapons. Two superior daggers adorned with rubies and topaz sparkled into the girls outspread hands. Her brother was yielding a superior moon shaped sickle, likewise, decked in rubies and diamonds. These priceless weapons did not suit the likes of their mucky holders, contradictory.

Ramah asked "which one?" pointing to his nearest target, Alex.

Lilith jumped up, "oh, oh, let me go first" staring downwards at Yamato then glancing at Rebel. "Bet I can do em both".

Vergil urged, "Stop!" to which the phantom leaned to grip his shoulder, ever so slowly. "Your stench...is intolerable. The smell of divine blood, polluted by a swine that dwells in dust and mud, filthy" his bells jingling. Vergil would come to hate this sound and even more so this saintly voice. "I have been generous...do not test me, boy".

The blue devil obliged, "you will let them go...demon".

The phantom whispered "only for you...my filthy child".

Dante forced his body off the floor when he noticed just how close the man in the mask now stood beside his brother, standing irately and wiping the blood from his neck where the scythe had lain to his jugular.

"Leave..." Vergil announced from afar sensing his unchanged stance.

"No", the persistent refusal, coupled with a disobedient and nifty grin.

"We're not leaving you, ya dig", haughty.

Rebel, Alex, Ivory and Mato gazed at Vergil, all at once. How could they leave him and escape?

The phantom raised Vergil's chin with his staff, "am I applying the wrong approach? Well…let us try…thissss".

The silver serpent uncoiled from its inertia, the grey scales shedding as its true colours floodlit, black and red, size altering as the viper raised its fangs and flickered its tongue to taste, the lithe body coiling the staff. The creatures red eyes were fixated on Vergil's calm face, its irises yellow. If he was to be struck what kind of poison would this ancient snake emit? It was the red devil's turn to pale. Vergil's inner ear oozed fresh blood. His human side was being swamped by an unbeatable foe that had observed man with contempt on the day of its creation...unbeatable.

"Do not look in her eyes, for you will weep her sorrow" the admittance. "Heed...only me". The phantom turned Vergil's face towards his eyes so that he may peer into the realms of wretched hell for all its viciousness and plain splendour. These eyes were indescribable nadirs of black where no man, beast or demon could gaze without losing saneness.

"Verge…" Dante's heart contested as his brother's eyes dripped blood…human blood. Vergil heard and slowly widened his eyes with unspoken words, amidst the swirling chaos, amidst the inferno, their indistinguishable eyes kissed with silent understanding. Vergil was asking him to leave for their sake. Dante shook from comprehension. Finally understanding the gravity of the situation they were so dangerously in. They were outnumbered and outmatched, staring vacantly at the thing in the red mask. If something happened to his brother he would set this fucking world on fire, scrunching his fists tightly, he walked towards Mato, curling his arm about her waist, he raised her.

"No, we cannot leave him" she urged, gazing at Vergil in loss whose eyes continued to drip blood.

"Yamato" he whispered to which all her pleas were silenced. "They are my accountability and yours" the determined rejoinder.

"Your forgiven" related cordially.

Mato was hopelessly broken by his say. He would always put his family first...surrendering to his will compliantly with the little strength that remained. The katana was sealed inside Dante's palm who was avoiding his brothers direction altogether. Rebellion was seized next by the shoulder. "Reb" was Dante's warm say to which the vane refused to comply for his eyes were fixed on the one they would be leaving behind. "Reb..." Dante ached, rubbing his bleeding flesh, "we can't stay..."

Rebellion murmured, "V-Vergil" with fewer errors as Ramah and Lilith took their places casually behind there handler and his newest plaything. The flying cloaks swarmed like locust towards the source of their birthplace. The blithe phantom smeared Vergil's face of the blood to view the dirty droplets, close-up. The scarce child's expression remained unaltered, much to his glee. The excitement of what would entail made the feathers on his suit flutter. First comes pain, then comes fracture, then would come...smiling. That was a secret. Rebellion strained to view as Vergil's figure was infested among the blizzard of black. Dante gently pushed his face towards his.

"Am gonna bring him back...I promise". Rebel stared into Dante's impassioned eyes. Their countenance matched. "Nothings gonna happen to him, we're going to save him...together".

Rebel versed..."s-save", gazing down at his stirring pocket.

Alex covered his ears with quaking hands. The lingering voices of the laughing demons were pounding his human senses and prevailing. He couldn't take much more of this realm and the powers behind it, scrunching his eyes shut to seal these voices out by calling the name of the Source he had no knowledge of and was in desperate search of. God was above it all; Vergil had said so, begging his Lord senselessly when he felt an arm dragging him to stand. Alex gripped and widened his eyes to find Dante staring at him. Why did the tranquil look in his eyes quiet his pounding heart? His friend looked utterly fearless and undeniably strong. Dante wasn't fazed and this made everything else insipid in comparison. In the midst of the apocalypse, the red devil stood undisturbed, viewing the vines from Ebony's neck who managed to crawl on his paws, just a few paces before they tightened again, whining in pain.

Rebel abetted the crying wolf, trying to dislodge the vines by tugging, the prickles burning his flesh, dispelling acid and yet it only prompted them to curl tighter about their victim. Dante sliced with Mato's strength and precision, striking Ebony's collar and fur. The hacked vine writhed like a dying snake. Ebony wheezed…teeth and gums bleeding from the muzzle. He wouldn't be leaving this dessert alive, unable to tread. Rebel curled his hands under the wolf's bottom and raised him into his chest.

Ebony snarled uncomfortably, "Leave me...weakling", ashamed.

Rebel hugged the wolf that didn't like him, "n-no" holding him tightly the way a juvenile would a cuddly toy. Ebony's head hobbled onto his shoulders. He had never met a weapon that was so innately dumb and characteristically human. Ramah grinned, far and wide. Neither of the three devil arms had learned of the fact that they had been gravely poisoned. He had ensured to coat the sickle that had embedded Rebel's flesh with the venom from his veins. The strongest devil arm was he which is why he was still standing. Even so, the three would die by dawn, as calculated.

Dante interrupted his malicious insights by striding assuredly towards them, shifting the katana over his shoulder. Ramah heard his straying steps and decided to toy with him when his handler abruptly halted his vindictive notions. The phantom was keen to see what would transpire, albeit curious. Dante was neither interrupted by the reeling Death Scythes and neither by the hums of Mato's forsaken calls…besieging him to save the one that was more precious than the air she breathed. He was simply walking the same torrential waters to touch Vergil's side before he could fall, reaching the man he would seek out even in death. Dante bowed his crown above Vergil's summits that heavily sighed in disclosure, cupping his face lovingly; eyes shut as the younger incessantly rubbed and grazed his jaws in uncontrollable ecstasy. The world faded into the backdrops. Only they existed.

"Do not call our father…, I suspect it is what he wants, from us", advising of his cautious considerations and the probable cause of his abduction. "They will use me…to get to him", anxious.

"I won't" the red devil's regards were incessantly absorbed to scrape his whispering lips.

"You are on your own, Dante" the substantial and craving reminder.

"I know" pointy nose was nudging his obstinately, careless. "I'll find you, no matter what" the promise.

"Go" the valedictory goodbye coupled with an affectionate caress to his right brow.

"Kiss me first, for luck" the earnest reply as the red devil inhaled the traces that were about to be stolen from him.

"Kiss me…Verge" pleading.

Vergil's hands ascended his neck. Dante stilled, closing the gap between their forms, refusing to open his eyes. If he did, he would never be able to let go, deadly afraid. Patiently waiting for those warm lips to pierce, fill and deliver anguish that only he was strong enough to carry. Vergil tightened his hold and kissed him with loving care. The Sons of Sparda hushed their viewing audience who could only stare in silent fragments of understanding. Their auras of burning red and icy blue joined in unison to ignite a violent violet. Dante's mouth narrowed and extended as Vergil's tongue slipped inside his folds, hands ascending to wrap the fingertips clutching and scraping his face. The red devil groaned, flaring his hankering eyes to arrest Vergil's image as he sustained their unlawful kiss, reading-through every inch of his brother's hair and flesh, speaking low.

"I'll fucking kill you, if you do anything to him", delivered with a cracked smile.

The peering phantom affirmed and encroached, a gloved finger pushing him rearwards to convey the colossal power that was being kept in reserve. He was pushing his luck. Vergil undid his eyes and smeared the hunter's lips of their lingering saliva with chivalry. The red devil proceeded to scrape the digits between his mouths. "I love you" the conclusion as he tramped rearwards, squeezing Mato's hilt to find the courage to walk away.

Vergil answered "as do I, brother".

Dante smirked, "took you long enough to admit it", bragging and revolving to come to a halt in front of the untainted golden mirror, testing the watery reflection with his tips to corroborate. "Reb" he called.

Rebellion joined his side reluctantly, gazing over his shoulder in disquiet still clutching the dwindling wolf that had stopped moving. Alex was sticking close to them, holding Rebellion's jumper with tightened fists, quivering. Dante didn't allow himself or his vane another chance to view the person that they would jointly die without, clasping Rebel's hands tightly he pulled. They were plunging inside a vortex so prodigious that it took them half a second to crash in a mound outside their home. The succubae gasped in shock at their beaten figures that lay sprawled on the gravel. The terrifying scent they were carrying made them shriek a dreadful cry that summoned all other devil arms to the vicinity. Ifrit, Cerberus, Agni and Rudra arrived to process the blood riddled scene.

Dante faintly whispered "help them" laying Mato beside Rebel whom was still clasping Ebony. Mato took her form next to Alex who was still in shock. They all were.

Ifrit hovered to inspect their wounds, the golden gloves breathed their healing fires over the mysterious perforations and cuts that appeared dangerously superficial. Cerberus growled menacingly at the panting wolf that was inexplicably wrapped inside Rebellions arms. "Do not heal that one he's not one of us" the chilly notification. Ifrit stalled his efforts as Cerb grew in rage. How could he forget what damage this devil arm had done to the pup that was Rebel? "I will finish him, lay him down...so that I may crush his skull", hungry for the wild wolves blood.

Rebel frowned, "f-friends" quietly.

Ebony's breathing escalated rapidly, lungs and heart pounding to the poison within yet he couldn't help but address the hound, "I will kill you first, you useless lapdog" the equal snarls of hate.

Cerb bared his tusks correspondingly, freezing breathes intensifying, barking. "Why does he still live after what he has done!" stomping the ground with his paws leaving a crack of frostbite. Rebel tried to break up the ongoing dogfight when Rudra noted the additional intruder.

"Brother, who is that?"

Agni saw, "he must be a guest of master Dante" politely.

Alex tilted to review the headless demonic entities strangely commenting about him, wearing white aprons and tattered brown pants, lowering his head to his laps again. What was going inside his head was anyone's guess? The succubae timidly circled to view their injuries. Their house and occupants had come under attack, panicking as Ifrit tried to quiet them. "We must report this to the master" voicing his concerns.

Mato wept "master..." Everyone grew hushed as she raised her naked body on her palms, "they took, my master" dripping blood from her eyes in her pain, "they took him...and we did nothing, nothing", inconsolable, "it's...it's...all finished...finished. They will kill him…he" as she seizes her chest.

Ifrit soared towards Dante, "you must call your father, immediately" the counsel.

The quiet red devil erected slowly, checking his mobile. It was still in his jeans pocket. Everyone was looking to him for the solutions on what to do next and he didn't have a fucking clue. Mato fainted from fatigue. Ifrit roamed to her side rapidly, his fires hadn't availed and he discovered the reason why. Her flesh was plagued with poison. Demons that could emit a contagion, with no cure, were few and far between...this unknown enemy was unlike anything they had ever fought, rushing towards the distraught succubus's to inform them of his crucial findings, keeping it a secret to prevent further decline in their upsetting state of affairs. They had to find a cure and were the only ones he could trust to gather the ingredients. Their delicate faces bleaching in fright. Their chants fluctuating to process the horrific situation and circling those infected.

Rebel was swamped by their gentle but urgent hands as they studied any clues for what it could be. The other females considered Mato's flesh raising her head onto their laps. Time was running out so they ascended the gardens hastily, gathering every healing flower they could find and grinding it into a paste in the unfilled pots reserved for saplings. Cerberus was pushed out by the commotion of their inference. Agni and Rudra were left out consciously. They gathered to apply the paste to the physical wounds, including the disinclined wolf to slow down the physical damage. They needed time to create a healing elixir to be ingested and would need to enter Sparda's sequestered domains.

Dante stared emptily at the ongoing commotion, pacing slowly towards his home. His steps were carrying him towards his only place of refuge. He couldn't think straight and needed the reprieve, or else, he would self-combust, reaching Vergil's room and entering with a creak. Dante removed his shoes and climbed into bed, raising the covers to crawl inside their drapes. Vergil's scent flooded him. Dante couldn't do this alone, dialling his father's number. It went straight to voicemail. Should he leave a message, if so, what would the message be? He tried his mother next to no avail, fastening his guarded eyes as they submersed in seeps, teeming. Vergil curled him into his torso.

"You're giving up already…lunatic?"

Dante smeared his tears over Vergil's flesh, "I'd die without you…" in quiet self-defeat. What Mato had said had ignited his fears. What did that thing in the mask want with his family and why had he taken Vergil?

"I'd die Verge…" coils tightly.

"D..." his friend had followed after.

Dante didn't answer. He had totally forgotten about Alex being witness to all his fucked-up secrets. "Just go home, you ass" curling tighter in a ball.

Alex sat down beside the bed, "I...never told you this before but...I might be Muslim".

Dante raised the covers slightly, "say what...?" Baffled by the timing of this strange declaration, thinking he had heard wrong.

"Am, am Muslim D!" Alexander's dark circles and bewildered eyes were spoken for. He had lost the plot.

Dante growled, indifferent, "my dad is a fucking devil...from hell. He fell in love with my mom and married her, pissing off all devils by birthing...us. On top of that am only attracted to my brother who was just taken hostage...and you're telling me your biggest problem, after everything that happened to us, is being a fucking Muslim!"

Alex quivered, "ye-yeah, I never believed in it before but...but now I do, your dad is a Jinn and if he's real then so is everything else. God is real D!" rubbing his tattoos. "It's all real...all fucking real", terrified by the enormity of the truth. "I saw the devil...he was real and he touched me" voice fading in blow, "and he took you're..."

Dante's anger washed, "just go home would ya" his plate was full and now wasn't the time to be salvaging their friendship, extremely depressed and unstable.

Alexander opposed, "I want to help" quietly.

The red devil talked realism, "this isn't some fucking day time TV show where we can just talk and work shit out. Go home and forget everything you saw, dumb-ass" furious, although it would have made for one hell of a show.

Alex bit his piercing, "how...how am I supposed to do that", loudly. "I...can't just leave...I need to know if he is Okay...I think I like Vergil?!" The extra confession spilled and he slugged, "he's a dude but…" Dante tackled, losing restraint.

Rebel climbed the staircases with four beautiful succubus latched to his back that were refusing to let him go. He was trailing Dante's scent. Ebony had no choice in the matter, in a death grip and sadly touching on death. Cerberus on their tail, worried sick for the young one who refused to rest. Ifrit had lost complete control of the disruptive bunch and everyone had stopped listening to his good advice including Agni who had been given the momentous task of transporting Yamato to the medical chamber much to his brother's envy whom was now sulking as to why he hadn't been asked since he felt Ifrit and he shared a very good repertoire. All patients had to be accounted for and as usual Rebel had caused a mad dash by refusing to obey.

"D-Dante" he was the first to burst into Vergil's room. The red devil was too busy trying to kill his best friend by choking him. Alex was putting up one hell of a fight, both legs pressed to his chest. Rebel tried to break it up but the attached succubae were still clinging to him and he didn't want to hurt them, lowering Ebony to the floor much to Cerb's delight who puffed clouds of mist from his flaring nostrils with killer intents, now that no one else was watching it would be easy to rip the gullet before him. Why should they accommodate a stray they had no need for and could be a spy in their midst. Wolves weren't trustworthy.

Ebony lay where he was, ready. He knew his time had come. A gut-wrenching howl escaped his lungs for the only one who would ever hear his call no matter where or how far he was. Ivory was licking his aching paw near a quiet creek when he heard the haunting 'Cry' in the remoteness. His brother was in trouble, whimpering to his paws. Ebony pant from suffocation, Cerb held off his attack, in two-minds, snapping his teeth. It didn't feel right to kill a maimed animal. Agni had arrived carrying Yamato bridal-style. Rudra keenly requested from behind.

"I will hold her for you brother, allow me".

Agni refused politely, "the duty was mine brother I shouldn't burden you".

Rudra disagreed, "not at all brother, allow me" clutching Mato's shapely waist.

Agni defied, "I couldn't possibly brother".

Rudra pulled, "I contend, brother".

Agni retracted, "I insist, brother".

Rudra gathered "you have held her long enough, allow me".

Agni acknowledged "has it really been that long brother?"

Rudra noted, "I do not know brother, how long has it been?"

Ifrit soared into his master's chamber and scrutinised the collecting mass of what could only be described as havoc. Rebel had somehow managed to lodge Dante into his arms and his fellow nurses were clasping Alex firmly to separate them. Ebony and Cerb were having a mouth to mouth cursing contest since the old dog hadn't quite the heart to slay the injured wolf bodily. Yamato had regained consciousness and was likely in the worse kind of grief finding herself stuck between the densest hulks that were still trying to figure out what they were talking about? The door and the connecting wall were blasted in one mighty bang. All and sundry turned to gaze at the cause of the blast, dust settling and clearing. No one else was home?

Sparda had physically awoken from his slumber due to the infernal ratchet, his aura a sizzling purple and red. The smouldering nude blonde with purplish eyes judged each and every stunned member with frightful eyes that could even revive the dead, just to murder them again. Agni and Rudra bunched together, suffocating the sorrowful beauty that was Mato, moving on to discriminate the canines with the same burning stare of loathing. Cerb's size dwindled dramatically leaving a pool of what appeared to be transparent water. Ebony didn't want to be the one to discover the qualities of the said water and tried to twist away when the purple orbs located his roseate ones, astringent. Ebony's tail obligatorily tucked inwards.

Ifrit was next for valuation; he's energies crackling under pressure as the terrifying eyes passed on to judge the insect. Alex ogled unreservedly, bleaching, the succubae using him as their protective shield and cowering. The fatal eyes halted on Rebel who plainly met the pungent stare with rutted brows. The childlike blade was seeing the blistering colours he was releasing…absorbed by their familiar shades and immediately identifying who he was, even without spotting the rose emblem sliced over his heart. "Spa-Spa" was the pleased recognition which everyone else ignored or didn't quite understand. Sparda had by now moved on to rear-end the living being that had blared so much he had no choice but to stir. Dante, talking a lot, was an understatement and yet here he was still yammering.

"Who…the fuck…?" was the hunter's docile observation when he too was suppressed.

Their father's vane raised a finger to his lips in a frightening "shush" motion with a countenance sourer then the entire lemons world over. Silence accomplished, he stepped back into the wrecked hallway for a shuteye when a lurid chirp ricocheted through his membranes, aura reaching a fatal boiling point, eye twitching. The earlier sinners all gaped at the minor font of the enthusiastic sound as the deceptive baby chicken ascended from the dead and climbed out of Rebel's pockets into his hands, much to his gladness and relief. This task was given to him by the one they would never stop chasing after, even if it meant following him into the pits of Hell. The unspecified birdies Mohawk had pleated and it now vaunted a plumy tail with bright green colours.

"Cheep…cheep, cheep, cheep, CHEEEP!" the trying sound as the resurrected one ostentatiously introduced herself to her newest clan by hopping into the lap of the one she had imprinted as her Papa.

Dante stared at the chirruping bird, worn-out and on the brinks of insanity. Vergil had been abducted. A stark-naked and unnamed being was presently occupying their home. His untrustworthy friend knew everything about his double life. He couldn't get a hold of his parents and didn't know what the fuck he was doing and now this unsolved chicken that was dancing on his crotch. He sniggered abruptly, biting his nail to repress an urge to laugh. So this is why people hoot and rock inside mental wards. Dante cackled loudly, much to everyone else's shock. God was real and apparently hated him, tittering. Sparda punched the remaining wall and it collapsed, retracing his steps. Dante and the excited birdie were abruptly silenced by his unexpected return as his shadow cast over them. They were all about to find out the hard way why Sparda was listed as the most fearsome devil arm in all the realms, smiling. The unfilled crown for the new head of this dynamic household was situated on his grand pate.


	12. Morning Light

Eva was embedding a remarkable kernel. Sparda had succeeded in locating a magna stained rose to amplify her multi-coloured bouquet. The buds didn't require a vase and neither any arduous upkeep, for these musky roses were everlasting, rubbing her temple with the life-giving dust to prevent strands of her hair adhering to her lips when she caught silent footfalls behind her. Eva turned to find Vergil observing. Her mature son spent countless hours hidden amid this teeming foliage to read and recite, clad in a black cardigan and casual denims. An indigo tinted hummingbird whizzed passed his shoulder to allocate the nectar situated inside a bell-shaped floret just above his crown. These glittering birds of paradise were used to his quiet and sublime presence.

Eva got to her feet to greet her baby whom remained peculiarly hushed. The sun was abruptly shrouded by a dark cloud as it pondered the temperamental skies. It was going to hail. Her contemplative son bowed to pluck a lavish rose, the spikes tore his flesh, the dews spraying on the petals. His mother's smile faded when she saw him bleed, even more troubled by the thought that he had taken the living flower to simply crush it inside his palm, out of character, petals sprinkling.

"Vergy!" she criticized.

Her son raised his head towards the blanketed heavens, "it hurts...mother" the profound anguish.

Eva felt her heart catch in her throat by the sheer pain in his voice, "Vergil?" clutching his hand to see his cut. Her son's eyes lowered and shut, trickling blood, softly clasping her wrist to raise it to his equable jaw. Eva's eye's widened in dread as the boy trapped in the cellar, dressed only in rags breathed, "m-mother". His flesh was oozing blood. He was dying.

Eva awoke, startled. "Vergil?"

Her voice didn't transmit, trying to raise her right hand that acutely throbbed; it was covered in fresh dressing along with her neck.

"Evie…you're finally awake!"

Sparda's relieved say ascended from her left as he rose in his chair, masked in darkness. There was no light in their bedroom, just the sound of a marine gust as it entered their quiet veranda.

Eva struggled to sit upright, "Sparda…?"

Sparda's hands came to assist her and that was when she smelt the scent that always left her so very nauseous…blood. What her eyes couldn't see in the pitch of black, her lungs could so easily swallow and decipher. Eva tried to click the bedside lamp but Sparda disallowed. How could he let her see him? All the same, his trembling partner had guessed what he had committed…slaughter, inaudibly withdrawing from his intimate reach. Her husband was inundated with blood and it wasn't the first time she had seen him in this hellish state.

"You...promised me...!" the incredulous cry as she threw the bedsheets to one side.

Sparda gazed at his incrusted hands, "I…was left with no alternative" the discreet riposte.

Eva stormed, "You...promised me Sparda, you would never...kill!", hoisting from the bedside unevenly.

Sparda watched his partner sombrely. He had lost control of his devil. The aroma of fragrant blood drifted and soared as he gazed upon his ominous reflection in the standing mirror. When was the last time he had mercilessly slain another soul? When was the last time he has seen his image so distorted.

Once upon a time, inside a darkened alleyway, a bright winter's moon had been captured. Why Eva had been drawn to that specific location, to that troubling light, was anyone's guess. Fate had lain long in wait for this divine meeting. An ordinary mortal was about to meet a fiend as he nourished on its fallen kill…a mutilated Frost Knight was writhing its final breathes. It had tried to flee its pursuer by entering the forbidden human realms. The plan hadn't worked for it had only added to the killers hunt and play. The plausible excuse to enter these prohibited grounds.

Luci was extremely domineering over his younger sibling and had barred him from entering enemy territory for he was loved more then any words could ever convey. These sneaky visitations had become a recurring bad habit. The recalcitrant devil devoured his feast, unobstructed. Flesh-eating was only considered wrong if the breed was yours; otherwise, it was essentially the absorption of power. A devil like Sparda was a superior creature by all standards. Mortals were their sworn enemy. Conjecture taught and acclimatized about an ancient war that had arisen over a difference of opinion. Devils were the highest of all creations and mortals' nothing but grazing cattle, growling at the peculiar invader that didn't quite look like a heifer but rather a terrified mouse.

Eva bit her tongue to stop a scream, having discovered the stirring shadow was in fact real and so was the dying creature with the frosty skin. Her beige trench coat fluctuating as she rapidly turned on her heels to flee his presence. Her white dress twirling, distrait curls sweeping as she hurried towards the safety of the streetlights. Her short-lived scent reduces yet the seated devil couldn't help but snuffle her lasting odours, for they were far more fragrant then the scent of blood and decaying flesh. She was unalike any mortal he had ever observed from afar? And he was struck curious.

Sparda decided to track her overhead, on a limb. He couldn't afford to be out here but a little exploration couldn't hurt. It started to snow; the streets were blushing white, iridescent. Her speckled steps stressed as he catches up to her paces, glancing over her shoulder, disturbed by his looming shadow. Sparda hadn't seen her eyes, what colour were they…stalking as she made her way rapidly home, fumbling for the keys to unlock her small apartment, rummaging her leather bag briskly. When that didn't work she emptied the contents in the snow. The devil laughed quietly at the traumatized mouse when it was struck from behind by a fist that had been waiting in ambush. Her abuser had worked out her whereabouts, having served his time in penitentiary.

"Thought you could get away, fucking cunt!"

Sparda perceived tranquilly as the infuriated man with a forgettable face turned the rickety rodent, straddling her stomach as she laid unconscious from his violent blow, clogging her neck in his drunken frenzy. Her golden locks sprawled against the white canvas resembled wisps of straw. Sparda stared, de-triggering to reduce his higher senses, gazing upon a banner for a cologne billboard to assume a costume to his liking, testing his powers in the untested realm with ease, now clad in a chic tuxedo. He didn't want to scare the mouse away, observing the man's livid outpouring while flexing his humanoid fingers. Her cowardly attacker continued to curse and ramble.

"I lost everything because of you, you little bitch!"

"My house, my wife...my fucking kids!"

Eva gasped, shoes dislodged as her legs spasm in pain, fingernails scraping the man she had put away when she was only thirteen. He had been her foster parent, her abuser. Orphans and minors were state-certified to be looked after by the government if they had no other family. She was the only survivor in a car crash that had killed her parents, bereaved. These chosen strangers' were in charge of her now and getting paid by the government for it. This man had coldly abused her, night and day, as his own children slept...safe and sound. What dwells in the hearts of men could make a devil pale in contrast. How could she let another suffer what she had endured alone? She reported him to the authorities, breaking free from this failed system when she turned 18, working three jobs to keep her head above the waters...only to drown.

Eva's streaming eyes steered towards the universe where a dark angel stood, the colour of his hair bore resemblance to the flakes numbing her skin. His eyes were pitilessly cold and far too perfect to be human. She smiled at him as her life departed. He was dressed adequately for her funeral. The stand-offish cherub didn't behold a stranger. Eva recognised the entity from the passage. She too had picked up his peculiar scent. The devils cologne was that of burning embers.

Sparda flew down. The rambling man turned to the sound of his succession and let her go gradually in shock. The one who approached had no interest in him devastating his skull, the gore and splatter spraying as he pitched the corpse, crouching on all fours to inspect the mortal mouse, up-close. The unfortunate man had simply been in his way, dripping blood over her startled face. Her white dress was coloured crimson by his violent act. Yet she lay their passively, even as he adjusted her hairs from her temple, scraping her skin with his nails leaving a blemish. The tiny mouse wouldn't flee from his rules and continued to stare daringly. A slight tremor between her lips as his colossal form lowered to drape hers, pausing as she broke their silence.

"Thank you", she shook from the cold, passing out.

Sparda eyed her littered belongings inquisitively, checking her drivers licence. The scrawny mouse had a name, "Eva". The bewitching demon elected to leave having guessed Luci would have found out about his outlandish crusade, lurking back into the glooms with momentary hesitation. Would the mouse freeze to death...most likely, so why did he bother to save "it"? This was the longest period he had spent in the mortal kingdoms and his doting brother would punish him for it, catching the sound of distant footfalls towards their trajectory.

Sparda eyed the girl that lay hopelessly exposed. Would they save the mouse or wilfully kill it? Did it matter? Then why was he still watching her? The footfalls neared and he acted on instinct, raising her as gently as he could to take her inside the hole that she lived in. The diminutive mouse was rigorously poor...not prosperous like they, laying her on the divan, nails tracing her overlong ringlets as she slept. Why did he like the feel of these delicate threads...at odds?

"Dirty little mouse!" his lips reconfirmed what he had been efficiently taught.

These mortals were there adversaries and the cause of the rift in the heavens and their subsequent collapse, yet his eyes couldn't break away from her. Why did God choose these over them? What did they possess that demons didn't? Was clay superior to fire…how so? He had never questioned his existence before. The Knight rose to leave the sleeping rodent only to be halted in his deepening tracks. Frozen and trembling fingertips had secured his.

Sparda gazed down at the one clasping his hand firmly. Eva's eyelids marginally widened to the face of her keeper. That same enduring smile embellished her flushed lips, sinking into submissive slumber, knowing he was still watching over her. She was safe. Sparda had never found the resilience to break away from the fingertips that had managed to heat his icy hands. Their love would crush every boundary and duality set forth by the universe. This was fate…this was love. The one, who had lured him away from darkness and into the light left him alone to pick up the fragments he had left behind.

Eva came to a standstill outside the concealed chamber which had been left wide-open, viewing the iron stairway with fright. She clutched the railings tightly to brave these steps. The metal was immersed in coagulated blood. Her eyes and lips quaking in a mixture of trepidation and courage as she slowly clambered one step at a time. Eva was about to re-enter the blood-spattered remnants of the room that had momentarily sheltered a lost and vulnerable soul. She strengthened her resolve to enter the unlit compartment that was visibly marked by carnage.

"Mistress, you shouldn't be here", the unexpected and startling whirr.

Nevan glumly stood before her to prevent her going any further and yet Eva was the one she had been waiting for, ambivalent. Her master had requested that she consume what was left of the anonymous youth only to find he was still breathing...just barely. Even with the intoxicating scent of his distinctive lifeblood she had been unable to deliver a final blow. And how could she when he resembled the two most hallowed members of their household. Hours had passed in her indeterminacy towards her duty and intrinsic hesitations, hoping the hybrid would bleed to death and yet he fought each strained breathe, stubbornly clinging to life. Nevan had been unable to bring his fight to a close, marooned in the shadows.

"I need to see...him Nevan!" the shaky verdict.

Eva clutched the vamps shoulder to brace herself. She had all but guessed what had befallen her assailant when he had made the fatal mistake of touching her. Sparda had come to her rescue and obliterated her attacker. This was her fault. If she hadn't come down here, none of this would have happened. If this child died, she would never be able to forgive herself.

Nevan answered, "It's too late, and he has lost too much..."

"I need...to see!" was the determined conclusion from the one who couldn't help but be drawn to the cobalt light that now lay quenched. "Mother" the secluded whisper from that lingering dream as she comes within reach of his beaten body.

Nevan's inflamed tresses illumined, her typically smiling face was unresponsive in quiet rift, heeding to her Mistresses will to light the dark, feeling equal blame for following her carnal lures. The young devil's mutilated corpse came into full opinion. Nevan had never beheld another hybrid. Eva looked on bravely as he laid lifeless, face down…crushed. His devil arm had been torn out of his flesh, the cause of the giant splatter of gore and fatal injury. Nero's torso was riddled with vicious bites from a frenzied devil that protected his mate with terrible effects. Eva gripped her aching wrist and slowly drifted in his direction, stepping on the bear that now lay cradled in his blood, frozen.

Nevan voiced, "He is beyond saving. And there is no reason to save him".

"He was sent here by..." not wishing to disclose the name of the likely culprit whom was hell-bent on breaking there family apart.

Eva lowered, unsteady hand slid the encrusted hair to view the orphan she knew nothing about, bit by bit sinking towards his neck to see if he still had a pulse. "Help him!" the desperate plea to her devil arm.

Nevan extinguished her light in answer, "I cannot".

Eva rose rapidly, rushing towards the shelf in search of a cure, misplacing her grip on one of the containers which shattered against the concrete ground, stepping on the shards, barefooted. Tired, frantic and exhausted she slumped to the floor, checking the lower ledge, trembling uncontrollably but not giving up. What could she possibly use to treat him, his injuries were ghastly. Eva burst into hysterical tears, smudging them roughly to continue her one-sided efforts. Nevan's fingertips clasped her bleeding foot with temperate care, raising them to her laps to inspect the flesh that couldn't afford a single scratch. The flustered mistress gripped her hands.

"Nevan...please!" squeezing them tightly, eyes imploring.

The vamp exhaled, gazing at the one who lay on the borders of destitution, realising why she hadn't killed the fledging when she had the chance. Her Mistresses company had altered her. The boy didn't deserve to die like this, for hybrid blood was considered sacred. Her nails elongated, replicating metallic cords coiled with high voltage. You can guess what her intriguing devil arm was? The first task was to sow that appendage and what could be better then her electric strings. These heated stitches would certainly do the job, promptly getting to work with an impish wink. Eva burst out in reassured mirth.

Sparda had washed the last remnants of the spilled blood from his body and yet the scent endured. All his deep-rooted fears as a father and husband had come undone in one awful night, stepping out of the cubicle in a new white robe having spent the time alone to make the room spotless. A warm light infiltrated the still vacant room. The sun was finally rising. Eva hadn't returned, troubled by the prospects. Sparda didn't wish to enter that bloody chamber and knew his wife was still there. He didn't have the heart to witness what he had done to that child, deeply remorseful. What he had inflicted was unpardonable, gazing at the pool below as the graceful rays seamlessly eroded the darkness. How can the world look so utterly altered with a touch of God's light?

The Knight acquired his sandals, heading in the direction of the only person in the world who could soothe his restless heart, even if her location was the cause of his restlessness. The scene he had anticipated was nothing like he could have ever imagined. Eva lay sleeping on Nevan's lap who was likewise slumbering against the wall having extensively spent all her nocturnal energies on the newest addition to their ever-growing household. The one tottering on the brinks of death was buried in ceremonial flowers. Each jar of hibiscus had been spilled over him and was now stuck to his flesh but that wasn't all. Sparda poised closer for further analysis, when he was interrupted. Nevan had stirred to his absolute attendance.

"The Mistress refused to leave his side. His heart ceased beating…twice" was the surplus info.

"I supplied the supplementary shocks!" Nevan would have made for one heck of a gutsy nurse!

Sparda smiled at the bear that was tightly squeezed in his wife's embrace, "I see" his only reaction, sifting the petals from the suppressed arm that had been proficiently sewn. This juvenile was well and truly in their custody, as was their collective decision. Sparda charitably added the missing bandage; taking a shard of glass he slit his wrist to dispense his blood over the inactive limb, at first nothing and then a glint of hope. The indigo light blew into being. Nero was finally out of danger, for this lifeblood was far more effective then the world's potions over.

Sparda smiled, "Guard over him", the decree.

Nevan minded, "I will stand watch".

Eva was quietly collected into the Knights arms that would need yet another shower and change of attire. The somnolent blonde awakened and curled her arms mutely about his neck.

"He better not be yours, Sparda!" still suspicious of her husband.

"I assure you, he isn't mine" the unimpeachable truth.

Eva drooped, "tell me...everything and no more secrets" spent.

Sparda settled, "after a shower". The Mistress peeped over her husbands challenging shoulders, "is he going to be Okay?", still anxious over the one that lay bizarrely tranquil and charmingly beset.

The Knight halted as that alluring light grew fiercer and fiercer in retort, "we better prepare for when he wakes, he has quite a temper" the fair-minded warning. For the little spark that had just been re-kindled was an uncontrollable and hostile blaze. Nero's reform was going to be under the supervisory eyes of three extraordinary people.

Eva snuggled back in the arms of the man that had proved to be her guardian, "you will help him...won't you honey?"

Sparda scaled the stairwell, "I believe I no longer have a choice on the matter, Evie" to which his partner kissed his lips in faith.

"He looks…so much like…our boy's". The lovebirds left.

The hapless and damaged bear had sadly plunged in the course of the Mistress's transportation. The vamp shuffled the toy against the one who would prove to be quite a trial when he recuperated. Nevan yanked the cheeks that were getting some of their hues back.

"Lucky pest" was the praise.

Who would have thought a vamp like her could harbour motherly instincts. The purr of her voice sent a pulsation through the shrinking cables rooted in his flesh as if she had struck a euphonious tab. The red haired lady hummed a song as she started to clean up the clutter. The sleeping devil was going to discover why devil arms were the true catalysts for determining ones destiny.

"Wonder how our boys will react to you...runt!" she couldn't wait to find out.


	13. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Latin Translation:
> 
> "Quid agis" - "how are you?"
> 
> "sanguinem" - "blood"
> 
> "Latrunculusque matum" - "checkmate"

Vergil awoke to a feeling of smothering. He blinked and gazed down to find his twin curling his abdomen despairingly. Warm tears spilling over his ribs as Dante squeezed passionately.

"I'd die without you Verge" the persecuted cry.

The elder soothed, fingers battling through the silver locks that only ever waited for his touches. "Lunatic!" was the loving remark as he glided downwards to gaze upon his missing half, stark-naked. Dante breathed in ache and twinge, unendingly gazing, interminably devoted and hopelessly lost. The blue devil spread a renewed tear amid his thumb, wordlessly conveying his hearts silent throbbing with crushing admittance.

"As would I..." drawing their moist lips, enwrapping their unsteady breathes inside a heated and full-on kiss. They had yet to make love, bare flesh aching to connect. When they did, this world would succumb to obscurity, for their joint souls would resist every rule to merge as one. What was duality? Fire and ice, roses and thorns, shade and heat were non-existent...for they occupied a place within each other that extinguished all divides, moving, swaying…joined. Vergil stirred alone, heart thrashing.

Sparda's learned son blinked into the realms of vagueness, staring emptily at the bed and the suspicious room. There were no covers here, erecting slowly to review his closet. It was void. There was not a single cloth to be found to conceal his nakedness, fists scrunched as he headed in the direction of the window that seemed to disclose the actuality. Someone had gone out of their way to replicate his room and only his room. The view was quite extraordinary, serrated mountains enclosed in heavy snow, unlike any he had ever seen, stars so eminent and plentiful that in them he could see the gyration of the cosmos in the jet-black night. The undetectable Castle presently imprisoning him was made of the same black stone as that impassable peak. No one would ever find him here, for this realm was situated in the unknown. The door creaked behind him, spraying a thin light, inviting.

Vergil perceived calmly. He had nowhere else to go, stepping out of the entrance to discover a dazzling palace paved with crystal glass, besieged with blood coloured rose petals. Everywhere he turned was an image of him; there were no other entries, just a straight path leading towards an overflowing pool. The door he had left vanished, undecided until he heard the acquainted sound, a snarl.

"Luna?" was the anxious call as he teleport to locate her whereabouts.

The much-loved jaguar wasn't far from his setting. Her circus cage was cleverly situated on the other side of the enormous pool being fed by 7 springs, all fashioned, in the appearance of marble lions, the waters spouting from their maws. Luna roared and irately rattled in her crates for two fiends were stabbing holes in her pelt, riling her.

Lilith dipped her legs in the liquids, "did you miss us, Vigy!"

"We got your pussycat" waving the dazzling daggers.

Ramah stabbed Luna's paw, squatted on the top of the pen, "do your work, lazy bitch!" to which the irritating girl splashed wildly with her legs.

Lilith was in wonderland, so why shouldn't she enjoy herself. Their former master had been a rotten yakuza. The two of them had been cursed to serve his family for as long as they were. They massacred rival gangs until he had no opponent's left. The Phantom had showed up, out of the blue, and not only murdered their master but set them free by breaking the blood ties, a binding contract. They hadn't learned anything else about their new holder and did what they were told like docile children that had cracked a candy store, even consenting to having their eyeballs plucked and sewn.

Lilith sunk her legs in greedy delight when she beheld the undulations, unable to resist "them", pleasure...pleasure...pleasure as they suckled her flesh leaving her gasping for air. These creatures were made solely for one purpose and boy oh boy were they good at it, climaxing in jiffies.

Vergil's instincts warned him to avoid these wretched waters, at all cost, about to teleport when he was halted by the falsification in his image that hadn't progressed with him. The Phantom climbed out of the glass, alternating his guise for the occasion by adopting a bright gold mask with matching gloves. The garb of black feathers was unchanged, swiping at his torso with his staff and taking a bow. He was here to explain a tangible rule for their first intimate game.

Stating softly, "you will enter the water or else the beast will die".

Ramah's festooned scythe lowered. He dangled it through the gaps for reinforcement. Luna savagely pawed its razor-blades. The silent blue devil locked eyes with the lankier man. He gazed upon the illuminating steps and ascended, as advised. The kind Springwater was the perfect temperature. Vergil swam a few paces when he heard their echoing glee. Glittering tails of gold and silver were enclosing him from every direction. These were Sirens and he had only heard of their ravishing tales, drowning fishermen by seducing them to their deaths. Two raised their heads to show him, first hand, why they were considered to be the most enchanting demons in all the realms, eyes like pearls, enlarged breasts, and tresses of unalloyed grey. They beheld cherubs with scintillating scales as they swum his way.

Two hands encircled from behind, soft flesh pressing into his spine as a Siren nuzzled him, another wrapped him frontwards. The devil was squeezed between them as a third swam amid his legs. Their touch set every cell in his body alight with desire, arousing. This was their ultimate weapon. The entire pool was engorged. Everywhere he gazed they submerged flicking their tails. Lust...gluttony...flesh expended and consumed him. The one's who couldn't reach his skin used one another to initiate an orgy. The young devil smiled. This sneer was directed towards the masked man who was doing everything in his power to indulge his animalistic needs. He suffused to the Sirens will, drowning in his carnal cravings.

The Phantom recited. "First comes...pleasure" fondly viewing.

How many had he tainted with perverse appetites for the flesh, insatiable bodily urges that had corrupted and lead so many astray. Pleased at how easy it was to sway mortal's towards their self-destruction. The child he was toying with would forever remain in the category of a mortal for only a pure-blooded devil was considered pedigree in his eyes. He would taint…torture and desecrate Sparda's beloved son beyond recognition. Revenge was a dish best served cold, gleeful until he saw the waters whirling red. A Siren shrieked as her heart was shredded by a black devil that was mercilessly slaying these feeble creatures. Even their teeth couldn't infiltrate his hard-edged flesh. No man or demon could resist their traces but a hybrid was untried on all accounts. The onlookers broke away from their mating frenzy to attack him but they were no match for the stinging phantom blades that hovered and whizzed above the waters, spearing their flapping victims that couldn't escape their aquatic tank, trapped.

Lilith wisely darted from the side of the pool having sensed a shadow resembling a great white exploding out of the liquids. Vergil touched the other side and de-triggered, gazing at Luna who was perforated with slashes, her sandy eyes violent, replicating his. She rumbled and battered for he was washed in blood, confused by the smells. Ramah jumped down from the crate to confront the butcher when he was halted by the rattling chimes, noting their command. Ramah roughly gripped Lilith as she sniffed the air to judge the writhing massacre of succulent dead fish.

Vergil widened the metal bars to gain entry. Luna snarled in warning. The wildcat had been taunted enough to eat the meal that had just arrived in her cell. "Luna!" the blue devil called and she sprang, licking his face of the blood, grunting and rubbing. How could she forget his scent? Vergil held her caringly into his body, equally tired as she covered his bare flesh with hers, warming him. He tore into his wrist and widened her jaw so she could suckle his blood to treat her wounds. He had secretly tested his blood properties for Eva's sake. Hybrid blood could only accelerate the healing process but not endow eternal life, finite by virtue and balance.

Vergil spoke, "Father, enforced my studies", the warm say as he watched her fleeces heal.

The verse made Ramah raise his hunched head in surprise. It wasn't what he expected to hear, allowing for the stench of genocide still lingering in the air. Lilith wanted to eat the flesh of the dead, growing hungry. Her limited hearing was focused only on the Sirens cries. The Phantom crouched in front of the cage, tracing the metal with his staff, "Father?"

Luna settled down inside his arms not knowing the serious danger she was in. Vergil's brows curled and he tightened his hold. He loved this feline. If he lost her, it would most definitely leave a lasting fracture, speaking his trail of thoughts.

"I have always questioned why Sparda never mentioned anything about the origins of the accursed Devil. Satan, Iblis...Lucifer were simply names created to scare mortal's, for this specific devil didn't exist", concentrated. "It was father's unsound reasoning that made me question and doubt his claims", senses pungent over the faceless man before him, telling.

"God's true form is unknowable, for He has no equal and is Himself the Creator of all that exists. Neither man nor devil can stand before Him and endure His Splendour, which is why He bids His Laws from behind a veil, out of sheer Mercy. Only fools can liken Him to images that would forever fall short of His Majesty...His Sovereignty, His Absolute Supremacy".

Citing, "His adversary...is a reject, a relatable failure many can aspire to be", the sarcastic insult.

The black gloves tapped the mask ironically, "reject?"

Vergil exposed, "I learned about our family lineage privately, about you".

The Phantom ceased, eyes arising gridlocked, "play my game..." repeated indistinctly, this was not the conversation he wanted to be having at this very early stage.

Vergil gazed harshly at the dead and dying Sirens, rebuffing "devils never hide their identity. I know for certain, that you are…The Devil, for only you would be vain enough to build a palace forged with glass…narcissistic, immoral and self-important".

"You see nothing beyond yourself...not even God, your Supreme Creator" the critique.

The Spectre teased, "Would you like me to be...Him, Devil and God?"

The serpent was untwisting, aroused by the bloodbath and wailing victims; she unravelled her loop, hostile. Ramah clutched his sister's wrist tighter yanking her angrily, looming danger had infiltrated the room, sickly sweet. No one had ever seen Lucifer in the flesh and lived to tell the tale. He sat at the very top of the violent food chain that was the demon pecking order. Vergil's words had rung an alarm bell deep within. Why did their new handler wear a mask? Where had their alien weapons come from? Though unsighted, he could feel the dark and pungent aura devouring the very air they were breathing, stifling and deadly.

Vergil provoked, "your real name wasn't the only thing you've been trying to hide from me", evenly assessing.

His enemy countered, "Hiding what, filthy child?"

The fear-provoking snake bore its fangs, her venom saturated. She was ready to bite. The blue devil bent his legs about Luna defensively. Vergil dared to lean into the infringing cold-blooded killer, his eyes exuded in sting but a triumphant smile crept over his lips. The game of hide and seek was up, for he had just worked out who this pretender was, for all his theatrics he had failed to take into account a very simple fact. This man shared his father's inimitable scent and he had failed to mask it. The biggest secret into their terrifying family history had all but spilled. The reason's for Sparda's refusal to teach him about the black-hearted entity hell was exceptionally made for, solving the puzzle.

"Brothers!" was the cryptic decoding of the one in the mask.

The Phantom stared, retrieving the slick serpent before she could get any closer to her envisioned kill, the attractive beast. He placed her to the surface and she slithered leisurely towards the pool, inflowing to feast on the dead.

"Why do you kiss your sibling, though it's immoral and wicked?"

Vergil professed, "He has infected me with his...madness and am a devil at heart", shameless.

The contemplation of Dante made him stare at the cerise pool. The red devil emerged from its confines, stripped torso flashing, mischievous eyes locked onto his, immodest and appealing as he positioned a dead siren in his embrace and ripped into her gullet. Vergil withdrew his regard for that powerful staff was creating a dangerous and deceptive illusion. The serpent had simply altered its guise. It was a snare and he wouldn't be falling for it.

The Phantom advised, overtly, "He is a glutton, by virtue, and will betray your faith. It'll cut deeper then a stinging barb through your beating heart".

"Care to see?"

The myriad of glass aired what Vergil had known but had never materially seen. Every mirror reflected Dante's act's of past infidelity with countless others. The resonances of his sighs almost devastating the cut-glass as they intensified. These physical acts were real and not an illusion. Vergil endured these cutting images with sorrowful contempt. For only he could narrate the vacant eyes of the one he loved. Dante had unknowingly searched for him in every other person and never found what he was looking for...his refuge, his cessation...unending quietude where he could lose himself.

"I did this...to him", the acknowledgement to which Luna graciously licked his mane.

The imageries abruptly died out when the Phantom realised they were not having the desired impact of jealousy and mistrust, saying, "Tell me why I've bought you here?"

The one in the cage weighed, "revenge on my father for taking a mortal wife, for violating the demonic order, for betraying you".

The of age male enveloped the bars, mammoth power triggering tremors through the metallic, "your mother stole and tarnished what I have sheltered for as long as I have lived...my only family. Her death is imminent but with your births his chance of return all but diminished. I have lost much...and yet I cannot let him go. Even with his treachery, my love endures".

He clasped, "I never expected to see me, in you…child" mildly converted.

Vergil digested the say slowly, disturbed by the unanticipated declaration of love and its heavy intimations. Without warning, one glove rose to separate the mask that had kept them as thorough strangers, discarded with a clack. The face that seemed was evocatively close to his father's, aside from the eyes which were far more elongated and lustrous in dye, intensely mesmerizing, exceptionally seductive. Luci didn't have horns and neither hoof to speak of. One had to be of the highest class of exquisiteness to be measured beautiful, undoing his full tresses that had never been cut, tumbling to his hipbones. Only a few elite had ever seen the father of all devils, this close-up. The crow's feathers were shedding in a delicate flurry; their replacement was modest bleached cloth with wide sleeves, black hakama pants casing the legs. Vergil recognised the distinctive attire, it was a Japanese Kimono worn by Samurai's of old.

"I haven't properly introduced myself, am Luci, your father's older brother", dodging the uncle and nephew tag for he wanted no linkage to her corporeal blood.

Vergil beheld indifferently, "what do you want from me?"

Luci hoisted, "I would be obliged if you would be kind enough to join me for a game of chess. It was Sparda's turn, after all", whilst attuning his sleeves, a family habit.

Vergil didn't budge from where he sat, unable to construe the abrupt change of behaviour and atmosphere. It had been easier to deal with this man when he had been under attack. What now? Luci retrieved the mask and staff and flung them in the gory pool where his pet was eating. These items were no longer required along with the unpleasant puppets he had collected to be a part of his original ploy to remain untraceable. Now that his identity had been blown, he had no further use for these arms, disposable decoys. The one seated in the cage had undeniably impressed him. Luci wanted to spend more time with Vergil before deciding his fate. Ramah stepped back unconsciously when he felt the electrostatic discharge. It was as if a bolt of thunder was about to strike. And it most certainly was.

Lilith was insensible, "quit touching me you perve! I want a fishy" the loud demand.

Luci turned his fatal attention towards them by extending his hand, "come to me".

The desirous girl in red hadn't listened to a single verse, snatching her hand away from her stressed siblings and hopping to her trainers side, "Can I eat one?" with an abnormal grin. Not noticing that he was no longer commanding them with his chimes. Luci gazed at her inferior and defective form, the puny black wings and ill dress. "You may" the gentle permission to which his serpent in the water halted his meal and vanished behind the deceased.

Vergil tightened his hold over Luna who wanted to exit her pen, critically watching the ignorant demoness who was about to meet her gruesome demise. Lilith pinched her nose shut and jumped into the pool, seeking to locate the most salacious sushi with her strengthened sense of smell.

Luci smiled at Ramah, "she is…strange?" beckoning his knife-edge with a stretch of his fingertips.

There were no more secrets between him and the boy watching, ready to show and tell. The lent weapon flew out of Ramah's sagging hand. The moon-shaped sickle curved its handle into the shape of a longbow, equal to the size of its owner, the steel receding to form a thin string which he stretched and tested. The arrow was missing. The daggers flew out of Lilith's grasps as she swam, breaching the liquids and startling her to the surface. The vanes joined, the steel forming the arrowhead and the handlebars stretching and thinning to form the shaft. Luci plucked a strand of his hair and circled the nock of the bowstring; a white fletching concluded the garlanded weapon. His devil arm was ready; this bow was infinite and surging with pulsing electric currents, as if he was about to fire a thunderbolt. Vergil couldn't help but stare, the clothing, the armament, were to fascinate and fascinate they did.

Lilith was about to bark something ill-advised when her entrance was muffled shut from behind. Dante's imitation had ruthlessly bound her neck, tight enough, to make the veins on her temple pop and the sewn needlework to become unfastened, widening her thickened jaw to insert a black centipede that had spurt from his palm. This creature would dine on its host's innards and burst forth when it was done gorging. Lilith would be sharing the Sirens misfortunes. She gasped and held her belly in terrifying cramps as the unemotional serpent released her abruptly.

Luci took aim, shooting his crossbow that travelled faster then the speed of light. His unfortunate prey was struck. The thunderbolt exited Lilith's heart leaving a gaping hole, the subsequent voltage setting her body ablaze. He would have let the centipede do its job but he was in a rush. The same arrow was curving to exit the heart of its additional dupe and splintering into a thousand invisible projectiles, each charged and sizzling.

Ramah discerned, "Lilly!" His chest was blown to pieces and sputtered afire.

The revitalised serpent climbed out of the pool and brushed past the pitiful devil that still hadn't realised what had taken place, collapsing to his knees and quietly joining his sister in the incinerator. This was a heartless realm run on anarchism. They were weak and no longer required having served their limited purpose.

Luci addressed the waterlogged imitation, "return".

The bogus Dante lowered to Vergil's level, the humanoid eyes were still bleached with striking yellow irises but this time the blue devil's eyes didn't bleed upon their connection. "Return", the voice overhead informed even more politely. The serpent frowned and flipped its tongue which was cleft making Luna lose her tolerance, ears twitching rearwards. She knew this was not the same naked beast she had encountered in the forest.

Luci told, "You can play with him tomorrow, Ares".

Ares, a shape-shifter and hermaphrodite sprite had been added to Vergil's mounting devotees list. Luci didn't get his answer so he called the other sprite in attendance. "Alas, please take Ares and the beast with you. I wish to spend some time alone with...Vergil", expressed gently.

Alastor and Ares were two of a kind devil arms. Their legendary descriptions had been just as inaccurate as Lucifer's. Vergil couldn't help but obsessively eye the crossbow to see what physical form Alastor would take, riveted by the thunder blade. The arrowhead flashed in answer and his eyes were overcome by the white light that ignited, ears ringing, blinking in a daze to find he was sat in a Victorian leather chair, in front of him was a window showcasing the arresting mountains but now he could see the snowfall for it was being illuminated by a full moon, the size of which he had never seen before. Vergil stroked his temple as if he had suffered a memory lapse. Where was he? A velvet blanket was caringly draped over his shoulders. He could not see the man's face that had clothed his body.

"Father?" the uncertainty.

Luci leaned closer, long hair inclining over his shoulder, "not quite", lips gliding over his jaw.

The Devil took a seat in front of him in a matching chair, separating them was an exquisite black octagonal table with a white and black Ivory chest set, a game that had yet to reach its completion. Lucifer's fingers floated over his King and the fireplace was set ablaze, the logs crackling to manage the sheer size of its orifice, pouring two glasses of the finest red wine and sliding one towards Vergil's end, clicking the crystal with his thumb. The room illuminated. It was a library casing just over a million books, all originals. Seven circular levels, each reached by a tasteful spiral staircase towering above them. It would take eternity to read everything here but that wasn't all. Two long birdcages were housing mortal doves perched on a shapely but dead branch.

The Devil spoke "we have so much to talk about that I do not know where to begin", supping. "I can change the view to any of your liking" indicating towards the drawn windows to reveal the dreamy flourish of Cherry blossom trees as they shed their pink petals in the mist of flowing waterfalls through picturesque rocks.

"Alastor is taking care of your cat; he is rather fond of strays, as you are".

Vergil was eyeing the pieces before him, it was his preferred game. The last time he had played was coincidentally with his father who had been unbeatable until the turn of his 18th Birthday. He had finally defeated Sparda who had tried to gift him a new car for his brilliance. Vergil had humbly opted for a new bike. The glass of wine he didn't take, crouching forward, judging all their previous moves, it was his turn to make one…eyeing the two Knights.

"How long will you keep me here?" the pending question.

Luci moaned, "I recently sent a generous gift to your father for his Wedding Anniversary, mind you I wasn't even his Best Man for his nuptials, how heartless" the peculiar complaint.

Vergil stared, "gift?"

Lucifer sat back, "It was like finding a needle in a haystack...another crossbreed, just like you".

The younger man's brows furrowed as he reviewed his other options, the pawns, "it isn't impossible for other devils to successfully breed with mortals".

Luci subjugated, "and yet there are only three of you in the entire realms over".

"I had never imagined, you would be so special", this complement was solely directed towards the one sat before him and not the other two oddities. One was now incurable and didn't share their blood; the other was a carbon copy of his harlotte mother, average.

"Well, I kept him here for a while. He liked to watch the snowfall and mostly sleep, his mind was wrecked by the human's who previously owned him. Ares grew extremely attached to that boy, curling up on his scaly limb wherever he may lay, no wonder he refused to leave you".

"Alastor gave him his name...Nero".

Vergil pursed his lips. The man in front was playing a different kind of mind-game and he was smart enough to remain guarded. The recognisable demons in his kidnapping had all been murdered and no one except he had seen Lucifer's true face. He was being extremely cunning in his ploy to keep his identity and whereabouts imperceptible. The flash that had blinded him was not from the devil arm but the devious owner who didn't want him to see what his present blade looked like. The serpent could change its appearance to its choosing. He would have to be the one to find a way out, buying time and playing along.

"Why did you send him to my father?"

Lucifer smiled and this time Vergil couldn't help but stare. The previous mask was haunting but the uncovered face even more so for it was unnaturally virtuous, contradictory to the evil rooted nature within. Luci erected to feed the generation of doves that he had been looking after since the day his little brother had abandoned them. Sparda was betrothed by all things' weak and mortal.

"I don't know how long I intend to keep you here", retrieving a dove by unlocking the cage door embellished by a rose shaped hinge, "what is more, I sent him to your father because I knew he would eventually find a way to...help him", feeding the bird black seeds from his palm. "Quite a few servants of mine have re-located to serve under his rules, yet there is only one I want returned".

"Sparda...the blade".

Confident, "He belongs to me".

Vergil returned, remaining neutral, "his vane has chosen eternal sleep".

Luci confined the pretty fowl, "how can the greatest blade of power reside in a domestic home. Did my brother think he would be happy to spend the rest of his days changing your dirty diapers?"

The hostage tilts his crown and made his move with the white Knight, "your turn" the thoughtful say.

The Devil returned to his seat to analyse, "wonderful...I didn't expect any less".

"My brother has taught you well, despite your...obvious limitations".

Vergil specified, "You've been planning this attack on my family for quite some time", he had figured out that every piece on this obscure board represented a member of their household. "You even went as far as finding another crossbreed to torture in preparation for what you had planned...for me", mindful. "Blaming human's for your work is simply an assertion, your heart is black, and you're full of lies...cursed", mentioned formally.

Luci unsung, "you may spend the night in this assembly room. You will find that every floor has a replicating bedroom to yours. Your favoured garments are on the bed. I know your hesitant to eat and drink but I have arranged your meal upstairs should you change your mind", smiling. "You may read as much as you like. I will teach you Archery tomorrow for it is my perfected craft, let us call it a night" in a pleasant mood.

The younger devil rose from his chair to review the tooting doves, wrapping the velvet tightly. It was the exact same cloth that Sparda was laid to rest. Upon closer inspection he could see the reddish tint in their eyes, and the subtly sharpened edges of their claws, defiled. His host enjoyed twisting, warping and diluting purity. Nothing here was quite as it seemed. He knew the experiment that had been conducted by this man prior to his arrival had damaged this other Hybrid. He had also been unleashed on his parents, to what effect? There was no doubt in his mind that Sparda could handle such a threat but what were the concluding repercussions?

Their estranged Uncle had a flare for instigating fire's from behind the scenes and never getting his hands dirty, suspiciously viewing the cherry petals that burst into the room as the daddy of all Devils unlocked the vast windows, still drinking amorously. The restful sound of the waterfalls prompted the ancient lamps on every floor to gleam, softening the dull chambers with warmth, illustrating all the paintings on the superb walls. Michelangelo, Raphael and Leonardo's most famous works and statues diverted the blue devils judging eyes. Lucifer had spent considerable amount of time understanding what Vergil liked and disliked.

Vergil was viewing the Creation, absorbed, when he felt a stately hand enter the realms of his characteristic locks; fingertips had grazed his neck as if to check the qualities of his flesh with lasting impressions. Lucifer had materialised behind him and whispered over his earlobes. "I must take my leave. My chamber is on the 7th floor; please join me when you can. I'll be waiting".

Vergil stood alone. He moved swiftly towards the windowsill, crouching to find the Latin letterings. It was a complex seal that even he couldn't translate, deciding to check the 1st level beginning with the bookstands to discover he wasn't quite alone. The viper known as Ares hissed into being, shedding the metallic scales of the rose insignia he had been replicating on the birdcage Luci hadn't opened. The doves reacted too slowly; one was clamped by the head, inserting poison. Vergil ignored, life and death were inseparable here, reading the title's before him when he caught footsteps. Duplicate Dante was standing near the fires tearing the head off the dove and scoffing, feathers and blood smearing his mouth, repulsive. Vergil climbed the spiral staircase to investigate the records on the second floor. The androgynous creature wouldn't leave him alone, appearing on top of the shelf gazing downwards, plumes from his jaw giving away his position.

Vergil asked, "Can you...talk?"

Ares lapped his lips, the forked tongue flickering, eyes obscured by muddled hair. He couldn't talk.

Vergil sighed, "Idiot!" he couldn't help it, continuing his inspection of the premises to discover a singular door, entering to find his duplicated room, about to shut the entry when the incessant creature encroached to verify the new space. The blue devil was growing irritated, "go away!" to which the naked fiend drifted inside. Vergil clamped his jaw shut when he spotted the view from his forged bedroom. The Mansion was floodlit, as if he had undeniably arrived home. Vergil's heart ached as he viewed the perfect details of their home, including the plush roses Eva had rooted.

"Leave!" He wanted to be left alone.

Ares's infuriating tongue flickered in retort, exasperating Vergil to no extent, "did you not hear me, demon, I said...!" noticing the yellowing over his spinal column.

He didn't know how old or young this sprite was but it wasn't doing a very good job of regulating its body temperature. Being cold-blooded Ares had to seek warmth, there was no sun here to bask in and the one he used to curl over to acquire the needed heat had vanished. Nero was gone. Alastor was a rapier cool to the touch; their latest lodger however was irresistibly warm-blooded.

Vergil checked the bed to find his combat clothes and boots. He alternated and shed the robe gazing at the thing observing him, returning to cover its frame with the wrap that still enclosed his body heat, packaging and tying. Why he did this he couldn't say, perhaps it was because of Dante's semblance, or simply his mother's humanity. The truth was Vergil was used to supervising not so bight sprites as was his intrinsic nature, returning to the divan to tighten his boots to find Ares seated opposite him on the floor. The humanoid arms wrapped his lower calves in a painful grip and the head dropped to his laps, constricting him.

Vergil precluded, "don't!" to which the serpent tightened its clutch, huddling. There was no way he was going to get out of this coil, giving up and falling back on the bed.

"Mother!" was the exasperated say as he inclined his head towards the unsupervised mansion. What would become of the other "idiots" he had left behind? Who was going to look after them, worried sick? Dante was most definitely not ready to take on the challenge of rescuing him from Satan considering he's present sloppy skills and questionable combat experience. Vergil was at a loss, perhaps their father would be returning earlier then expected, the only hope, for now there was nothing more he could do. Ares had fallen asleep, turning inactive and inanimate. The one awake gazed at the mystifying ceilings. It was a montage of a merry-go-round depicting two stallions, one black, and the other white. A haunting melody played from the vicinity of the room as if a music box had been unbolted, the carousel begun to spin and rotate inexplicably. Vergil's eyes followed their sways and closed without his knowledge, slumbering.

The architect of this dwelling was viewing him from the vicinities of the 7th floor, for the apparent walls were an elaborate illusion, a simple deception of the eyes. "There are some things, I rather you not...see", stated from above for the one down below.

Alastor's shackled neck arose to his say, chained like a dog in the corner of the room. Ruby coloured eyes were heavily subdued by the paralysing liquid designed to reduce his wondrous power of the elemental kind. His once luxuriant sky blue hair was cropped-short and his identical wings had been clipped and badly maimed for imprisonment, his punishment for recurring disobedience. Lithe frame that was once enriched with precious minerals and stones was gravely ashen and had lost its flicker. Luci likewise impaled Alastor's skull with two red horns that had belonged to a lowly Death Scythe, cruelly debasing. Like the wolves, Alastor had fiercely fought for his freedom and had paid a heavy price…circumscribed and bound. Lucifer had to apply a strand of his hair to re-connect to his powers that were intentionally being suppressed. No one else could ever wield Alastor now.

Luci was formidable once he had set his eyes on something he liked. Only deserting it once he was agreeably bored and the item altered and destroyed beyond doubt. He had no equal and thus felt no remorse. He was God. Luna had been shackled likewise in the adjacent corner, frantically pacing. Luci wanted to provide his reluctant arm with a new doll, having taken away his aforementioned playmate that had been sharing his slave like conditions. Ares, Alastor and Nero had become considerably attached and thus heartlessly divided.

Addressing, "Quid agis...?"

Alastor was as ancient as the language used, silent as if he hadn't heard anything.

Luci highlighted, "he seems to be infatuated with all things...devil", staring at the tips of his fingers where he had made contact with Vergil's flesh, "dirty", and yet he tasted his digits to discern the scent of mortal and demonic blood...revolted.

He ripped his flesh, black blood dripping to summon a singular soldier from hell. His blood was the doorway into the infernos where he reigned unopposed. It wasn't just the sprites he ruled but the entire world over. A black portal ate away the borders of a gold Isfahan rug. What climbed out was coincidentally named Phantom; eight mighty legs overflowing with magma exited their dungeons.

Lucifer told, "Enter his mansion. The seals have been broken by the one's that were previously infected". Ramah's blood was stained with his. Ebony, Mato and Rebel had inadvertently unlocked all doors to evil. "Kill everyone you find and return Sparda to me".

"Fail me and there is no return for you" the civil notice.

The flaming tarantula roared, "leave the puny traitors to me!", hulking legs crawling back into the circular hole to execute the orders, the void closing to its original state. Luci gazed at the restless beast, "should I kill it, Alas?"

Alastor's chains rattled about his wrist with no answer. Luci grinned and was about to walk in her direction when he was halted. Alastor had wrapped his cloth, deprived, "sanguinem" the painful appeal to which the ruling Devil lowered amicably, sliding his upper garments sideways, revealing his flawless chest. Lucifer made four vertical lines down his upper body. Alastor stared with ruined eyes but leaned in to extract the dark elixir amid his fissured lips. This was the drug that had left him eternally damned, the Devils definitive weapon.

Luci's blood was mind-altering, once tasted, there was no return to normality…for the outward chains were nothing compared to the inward shackles that enveloped the heart and instilled an incurable infection that spread and plagued ones entire being. The only reason he had sought out a hybrid was to test his bloods potency and it had proved to be even more affecting. Nero would never recover and will remain dependent on his plasma until the end of his days, without it, he would slowly lose his mind, as were the conclusive findings. He was sure his little brother would have taken care of the experiment he had no further need of, tying loose ends.

"Latrunculusque matum!" whilst pulling the blue curls before him with brutal longing.

He wanted to destroy everything that was dear to his brother and revel in the ashes. Sparda's older son would be sharing Nero's tragic plight, the reason he had been brought here. Hell was about to be unleashed and everything would blister and perish in its seething breathes. The pawns had been set in motion. Phantom wasn't the only one who would be making a surprise visit. Ivory slowly crept out of the bushes to find a way back inside the cage he had fled. The stage was all set for a fearsome collision between good and evil.


	14. Sparda

Ivory slinked on his hunches, creeping along the uncannily quiet hallway, decidedly alert. When he had flown his enclosure the adrenaline-charged escape had prevented him from detecting his surrounding's, painfully aware, that it was extraordinarily quiet. Where were they? The tenants of this mansion had but vanished? Yet it was not in his humble nature to premeditate his moves. His brother's cry meant he had neither plan nor resistance…only the urge to answer. Muzzle quietly sniffing the unnerving grounds to arrest the scent of the one he had returned for, obliging his desperate instinct to find and track, ears jerking as thunder stuck and lightened his path, ominous, paw trembling as he took a nether step. Why had he returned? Gut twisting painfully. He had nowhere else to go, limping on in cautious search.

The coy canine tracked his route through the ghostly corridors. Hidden in the encirclements of poignant obscurities, pausing abruptly outside the open doors of what appeared to be a vintage ballroom. Here too the lights were bizarrely out. Yet the scent would never go undetected. His brother was close, entering. He knew he was exposed here, afraid of having another confrontation with the hybrid that had condemned them. Yet his faltering paws struck the chilly marble in paradox, heart cowering in anticipation of violence yet he was ostensibly alone.

Head slowly rose to assess the empty chamber, stripped of needless décor and furnishings. Neither a soul nor a sound…receding back when he noticed the sculpture fixed on the opposite window that was missing the jade tinted draperies. The said sculpture resembled an iconic cross, mystifyingly drawn towards it as if it could answer his silent plea. This place was beginning to feel like perdition; a gathering for the departed, not the living.

Ivory slowly drew closer to get a better view, head upstretched, flinching in dead fright as the dazed eyes of the apparent figurine opened wide enough to expose sockets the size of terrified meres; thunder enlightening the chamber for all its hidden horror. The spawn whose blood he had been unable to flavour had been ruthlessly bound by purple mist. A warning sign for all to see and take heed. Stuck to his naked chest was a small chicken that was sharing his tragic fate. The rest of the house squad were hanging upside down from the upper limits of the ceiling, clustered together like a flock of snarled sheep.

Ivory's trembling orbs made contact with his doppelgänger above. In-between the hanging bodies that included our many heroes' were the unbelieving orbs of Ebony. His hind was squeezed in the fraught folds of Rebel and Alex whom were just as surprised to see someone had been left out of the anguish they had been suffering for several hours, inflicted on them, by the handsome gentleman that had yet to be identified as their father's beloved blade. Hostile alongside them was the rest of the household squad. Agni, Rudra, Cerberus and Ifrit were tightly bundled, while the attractive ladies had all been arranged in one neat corner. Mato drooped unconscious enclosed by the weeping succubae that didn't resist their shackles; Ivory's jaw extended in deadly terror. "Ebony!" was the alarmed cry.

And the entrance was no longer vacant. A towering figure had indeed been waiting in ambush, emitting enough power to cause the fur on Ivory's flesh to rise. The confused wolf was snatched upwards by the darting mist that tousled him like a poacher's snare. Muzzle wrapped so no other noise could be discharged and with that the doors were unceremoniously banged shut, sealing the latest victim in darkness and absolute quiet. The rest of the hostages stared at their latest arrival and last hope with diversified reactions and tired acknowledgment. They had been dangling for what seemed like Eons and any last resources of patience had all but run dry. Ebony tried his level best to snarl at the unexpected entrance of the failure and deserter that was Ivory but the swarming haze tightened in rejoinder. All they could do was stare at one another uneasily in close proximity and awkward intervals.

Dante's head sunk in agonizing defeat; they would die here, all of them. The homicidal and psychopathic blonde would leave them here to perish. What Eva and Sparda would find in this latest death scenario was his skeleton shell, along with the annoying chickens that was making his chest itch excruciatingly. The younger spawn of Sparda wept inaudibly, "Mom!" The mist tightened, suppressing his inaudible whinging for anyone else to catch. His mind benumbed. The last few hours of his life had been crazy to say the least!

Vergil wasn't here to save him and the hunger that lay dormant within was now insatiable and irrepressible; just the thought of those lips upon his quelled the restless storm that was Dante. What the fuck was he still doing here, wasting time? Head unconsciously rose in the direction of his brother's blade. Yamato had never looked so brittle. He knew she was hurt but the sight of her now made him aware of the fact that something had happened to them when they had met that fucker in the mask, angered by the recollection of Vergil's bleeding eyes, wrists repelling the coiling fetters to no avail. Why was he so fucking useless!

Rebel turned his way, sensing his distress, watching his inner struggles with knowing eyes, gazing at the moving haze. "Spa-spa", was the quiet say from the child that had spent countless hours watching the sleeping blade. How could he not secretly discover and contemplate the weapon that had reached unbounded powers. There was nothing like Sparda? Rebel idolised the vain that had surpassed every stage of its progress and then heartbreakingly chosen eternal sleep. Rebel widened his fingertips to clasp the mist that could never be contained by anyone.

"Spar-da" he called lovingly.

Sparda (the blade) scowled upon hearing his warm call, treading towards the margins of his room. Now that quiet had been restored he could resume unending sleep. The irritations he had seized would be released upon slumber. He wanted nothing to do with them. He was an outsider here and this new environment was alien to him. Nevertheless, he had been fortunate enough that the one who mastered him wasn't here. The last thing he wanted was to face his holder. He could not hide from the gaze that could read his every thought and his thoughts had become caustic since the day the dark knight had taken a mortal wife.

Eva had created an endless rift. Sleep had been his only refuge, Luci his lasting reminiscence. Until Sparda released him as his blade; he couldn't return to the family he had known for epochs, ascending inside the casket draped in velvet to unhurriedly destroy his essence. Sparda had done everything in his power to delay his blades demise; reversing the damage that eternal sleep can inflict on a devil arm. His upkeep had been worthy of worship and only prompted his blade to linger stubbornly on the doorsteps of self-destruction. The blade and its owner were evenly matched when it came to the swaying pendulum that was their complex rapport. Rebel whispered his name once more. Whether he liked it or not he remembered that dark haired blade very well.

The emaciated sprite, that lacked all finesse, had involved him in his everyday babble. Each time his Master left, the little sprite would enter his chambers and tiptoe to sneak a peak at him. It had then escalated to one-sided chats of stammering nonsense about what was transpiring around the house and solely on the one named Dante. The cute blade was in love with a little monster. Sparda had droned out these conversations but little by little he had grown accustomed to them. Rebel had never failed to seek him out; with the exception of the day he had abruptly reached adulthood. Sparda had laughed at his premature development but that tiny and awkward vane had a quite a persistent quality…awoken yet again by the sound of another intruder, peeved.

Phantom crept through the bowels of the kitchen. The heat from his limbs liquefying everything, noticing the scent of the ticks he had come to massacre, his figure ascending the upper walls with improbable ease. The doors of the ballroom were promptly detonated; broadcasting his unforeseen and unwanted arrival, heading straight towards the most alluring scent; hybrid blood.

Dante stared with astonished eyes as a figure from his worst nightmares creeped his way, "Mph!"...was the apt WTF cry!

Phantom rumbled in answer, "Greetings" halting his advance to examine the moving haze with one of his eight limbs. "Sparda?" the noteworthy acknowledgment to which a reply came from behind him. "Phan-tom!" the short-tempered welcome as he re-emerged in the now wrecked corridor. The spider wheeled cumbersomely and everyone was shushed. Even with the size and scale of the second intruder the bad-tempered blonde still seemed to be the superior threat. "You…awoke me" while gazing upwards with a chilling smile.

Phantom abruptly crashed to the ground; cracking the floor, rotating swiftly, "Sparda!" the loud salute. "Luci…has requested your company," wasting no time in explaining why he had come. He knew the devil arm before him hated small-talk.

Sparda remained silent, grazing the rose scratched by the hands of the Devil who had left his irreversible mark, reflecting "has he?"

Phantom rattled, "We could not retrieve you, from...that betrayer". No one took Sparda's name in the devil realms, ironic, since his blade was named after him! "He has…the other spawn", telling of Vergil's inevitable doom.

The blonde processed the information quickly. He knew Sparda must have done everything in his power to keep Luci away from him; after their little fallout. The purple mist faded from the room and the detainees collided with the floor, cries of painful moans ensuing. Dante was the last to be unconstrained; landing on his butt with a thump, pissed beyond hell. The chick clung to his chest with its talons. He flung the bird away with one hard slap; it cheeped and landed on the marble. Rebel stirred from the heap to retrieve the poor bird as it laid shocked causing Ebony to ram into Ivory.

"Do not touch me, traitor!"

Ivory sniffed his twin's wounds in worry and hurt. His brother was dying, howling in anguish and grief. The sound awoke Mato as she was dragged to safety by the succubae, huddling in a corner of the room having landed too close to the burning magma that was Phantom. "Vergil!" was her only cry as she searched restlessly for her Master's presence, halting when she saw Sparda, identifying him instantly, for Sparda had described the physical manifestation of his blade to his older son on more then one occasion. The greatest blade to have ever lived was finally awake amidst familiar chaos and destruction. Perchance it was an illusion, for she knew she was dying. "Sparda!" the astonished cry fled her lips to which the succubae curled inwards, enveloping her in their tender limbs, thinking her words were the definitive end.

Agni took it upon himself to try and retrieve Mato, bumping into Rudra, "brother, allow me", their irritating debate recurring much to the dislike of frosty Cerberus who was still squished under their fleshy legs. Ifrit soared to height. The only one in his right senses to assimilate the imminent threat that was so boldly being ignored. Phantom bellowed, engraving the floors with his limbs as he stamped the ground to recapture control. Sparda was getting noticeably angry and he didn't want to be on the receiving end.

"Quiet you scum!"

A blaze, the size of a meteor, was blown out of his jaw to swiftly put an end to the infernal racket. Ifrit diverted its vehement route by intercepting the fireball; the catalytic bang detonating the ceiling above. Alex could only stare as he caught a flash of nightfall. Dante came to his rescue before he was crushed by the raining debris, both colliding against the ensuing wall. The red devil was unable to control the force, "asss!" the misapplied anger. Alex was covered in soot, expressionless. He had no more answers to what could only be described as a dire day, sensitively stating.

"I don't know…how much more I can take...D", in a lifeless voice as they both gazed at the ruins with gruff breathes, the dust settling.

Dante coughed, "Reb…?" His blade answered from the space, "D-Dante!" Ebony was once more captured inside his arms. The little bird however was lost. Ivory arose in dizzy sways having narrowly escaped a falling boulder. Rebellion lowered Ebony next to his limping twin, uniting the brothers with a simple say…"r-rest".

Ivory couldn't help but instinctively lick the face of the vane he had helped to maul in sincere repentance, dipping to grip the tuff of his brother's mane and dragging him towards the vicinities of refuge that was his own body. Neither was in any shape or form to fight. Ebony came to, as Ivory lapped his wounds; "stop" the dim growl as he sunk lower, permitting their close bodily contact in remorse, guilt and even gratitude. How could they be apart? They only had each other from the day they were born.

The red devil treaded towards them, mistakenly stepping on Ifrit. Vergil's other devil arm had seen better days; he had misjudged the fire power that was Phantom. The gloves lay glowing in flickers. Dante lowered and clinched. Ifrit bound his bare hands. Any remaining strength he had left was going to be given to the former, "stop…him" the cast-iron certainty.

Dante smirked as they scorched his skin; catching fire, rising for the vicious contest. Agni tossed a block of rubble off Rudra. Dante's aura was calling them. The blades joined in support, they transpired on his bare back in a cross formation. They too would be participating. Yet the wielders heated fingertips were yearning for a singular vane.

"Reb", hand extended.

"Think y' ready" was the resilient jeer.

Rebel gleamed from afar; the razor edge flew towards their fated tips. Their steel set alight by Ifrit's touch.

Dante notified, "Which one of you bitches is going first!" finger indicating. "You first, fat ass!"

Phantom seethed in offence, "fatttt?!"

Dante approached, cocky, "I fucking hate bugs, especially fat...ugly ones, like you!" finger doubly indicating to Phantoms shapely rear-end.

Sparda smiled at the audacious brat that was Dante as he continued to curse his selected foe, presumably leaving him for later.

"Am fucking done with all this, Y 'dig!" growled on the bends of his devil-trigger. "I know that prick in the mask sent you both, and your going to fucking pay!"

The tarantula bawled, "Do you think you are a match for me?"

The red devil answered with his trigger, "Fuck. Yeah!" brash to commence the fight, head-on, as was his style and naivety, appearing above the tarantula, in what was an endeavoured airstrike, only to collide with his hidden extension. Dante had ignored the tarantula's stinger that was dripping with poison. Phantom did not share the young devils flaws, well-experienced. His extended appendage gave him additional advantage to assault his opponent from afar, striking.

Dante's singed devil collided with the walls, creating a cavern. The devils armour taking extensive damage; reducing trigger. Teleporting to strike the legs next to find his blade recoiling as if it was striking steel, carving upwards and about the flaming flesh, skidding rearwards from the sheer force of his blows that came to nothing; puffing. He wrapped Rudra in his free hand to strike the upper body to be sent crashing again by a whack of its stinger. Dante missed the earlier hole he had made by a margin and this time the impact caused his trigger to flop completely. His mortal body felt the shock of this knockback, his hybrid lifeblood on overdrive to patch-up the damage; spitting blood. Phantom laughed at his failures as he crawled to his feet.

"Is this Sparda's poor seedling?"

Dante specified, "Don't you ever...shut up!" clinching his blade tighter to try a little harder, there was no way in hell this thing was immortal. If it breathed; he could kill it, attacking to be struck mid-air by a rapid projectile that had erupted from Phantoms jaw sending the red devil crashing. Agni and Rudra had protected him from the immense blitz, forfeiting steel for their fleshly form to absorb the fireball. The headless entities lay scorched and crushed.

Dante slowly ascended to his feet, vision dazzled by a fiery light that was gaining in scope as though it were a stellar. The general was powering the concluding explosive. Luci had forewarned him not to drain this particular fly when he had killed it, for the hybrid's blood would prove to be toxic. He was heeding his Master's words.

Rebel whispered Dante's name and seemed in front of him, separating the eight eyes that were stationary over their inescapable target, blockading him, the heat and the light churning brighter to cremate the one who now stood in his way. Reb's fading stare was directed towards the one who was not partaking in the current battle, having chosen neither side.

Sparda's senses discerned to encounter the younger blades contemplations. Their eyes struck, those indulgent emerald scopes softened to his even gape and an inexplicable smile seamlessly sewn over Rebels lips, knowing, they were all safe as long as he was still here watching over them. The comet from Phantoms mouth burst into flames, followed by an ear-splitting shriek. Yamato's steel had struck his jawbones, counteracting the pending explosion. Even so, Reb was struck by its aftershocks, as was Dante.

Sparda viewed invasively as the scorpion bowed on his legs; his fire dowsed. Mato penetrated deeper, her steel glinting, restraining him as best as she could. The momentary lapse of that fortified magma had created an opening. The tarantula lay extinguished; his flesh darkened. Lightning struck him overhead and along his muscular gullet. Ebony and Ivory drove their fangs into his meat, thrashing their heads to dislodge chucks of his flesh for rigorous injury. Agni and Rudra struck next; wedged beside Mato. The tarantula whipped its tail to extricate the piercing vanes and the biting wolves to find he was being enclosed by thorny vines and serrated ice. The succubae hummed from afar, their eyes garnet. Cerberus howled in tune. Alex watched from behind the covers of a pillar, having no skills to offer, he notified his knocked out friend from afar.

"D…don't you have a finishing move to kill this thing. Coz now would be the right time!" not very helpful.

Phantom roared as the magma around his body merely recharged, heating the jammed razorblades. Unable to endure, they dislodged. The vines burned to cinders, as were the canines, residues raining down as the prowling tarantula walked passed his fallen foes to erect over Dante, frying him awake with a pointy hook. "They are no match for me, neither are you…weak…!" interrupted by what he thought was a scuttling rat as it darted on top of Dante's stewed chest, hesitating to assess his newest foe.

The red devil raised his tired head and gazed at the butt and feathers of what could only be described as a baby bird, "mom!" the grieved cry as his head buckled rearwards. "Please, just kill me already…" the negative groan.

Phantom wasted no time thwacking it sideways so he could complete his dialogue, "brazen little flea!" to find the critter in exactly the same location and on fire, possibly a little larger!? The scorpion snapped; thrusting his fangs into the unexplained irritant and whipping it towards the rest of the corpses to find it was there again as if the previous action he had just committed had never occurred? The blazing bird squawked loudly, fiery plumes now vivacious, fluffed and pirouetted for action, bearing a striking closeness to a pissed off golden peacock defending its terrain!

Phantom snarled making quite a few holes around Dante as the golden bird took flight, its tail quadrupled as it circled its prey to devour him entirely. Unbeknownst to the dancing scorpion was that his fires were feeding the little phoenix sumptuous nutrients. There was one immortal in this troupe and it was indeed a fierce little parasite that feasted on others until they were completely sapped. Phantom lit up the ceiling with his thunderbolts in order to extinguish the soaring bird as its eerie cries grew louder and louder, gaining with every connecting strike of Phantoms magma, amplifying its grandeur and stamina.

Dante had the best of view of its heavenly renovation as the Phoenix expanded until it matched the size of its opponent and came to an abrupt halt overhead, talons extended, and the flux of its wings creating surfs of warm gushing air. The Phoenix was ready to swallow its prey whole; it flew towards the earth in what was a twinkling of an eye, enfolding its wings and claws into its target, utterly crushing him. Phantoms screech availed him nothing as the Phoenix burst into flames, merging them in a singular blaze and consuming his essence in one spectacular bite. What remained of him was scattering stardust that was falling all around them like flecks of glitter.

Dante wheezed upright, "what…the…fuck!?"

The Phoenix had contracted in size and was by now perched on his rickety shoulder, multi-coloured tail brushing the back of his glistening spine. This bird of paradise was blessed with healing flames and she had just reached adulthood. Everyone who had been struck by her subsequent fires was fully revitalized, including the ones that had previously been inflicted with venom, its beak caressing the side of its owner, who was still in shock. Alex appeared behind him to break the peaceful silence.

"Got…grub!" blankly expressed.

Dante gaped, "the fuck is wrong with you…!" He had seen this 'look' before, his friend looked freaking stoned! The hell! A crescendo of empty bellies bellowed in unison and the red devil held his stomach in shock…"what!"

The still seated bird started to clean its plumage, having fed, satisfied. The minor aftereffects of its fires were positively gratifying and thus producing a voracious appetite within the others; to feast and forage.

Agni alerted insanely, "How rude of us…we have not fed our guests!"

Rudra's loud reply came from the vicinities of the crumbling kitchen, "the oven is functioning, come quickly to prepare the dough".

Alex wheezed, "Guest, fed!" stepping on Ebony's tail who barked as he stumbled after Agni.

Ifrit spun anxiously, "you there" addressing the huddling succubae, "prepare the table, hurry!" the girls nod and scrambled.

Ivory clung to his brother's side again, mutely watching the strange activities. Ebony took the opportunity to sniff his paw noticing it had healed, then the air. Did they have food for sprites here; licking his chomps at the fried meat that was Dante; if the hybrid ate he could offer him some more blood. Cerb abruptly pushed past him; in his quest for beef jerky he had mistakenly frosted the others fur.

"Watch it...dog!" the snap.

Cerberus growled, "Make me!" when a blast of fire struck the ground.

Ifrit interrupted, "in the kitchen, all of you, prepare the banquet", rushing away like a blazing kite to check on the shambolic cooks. The canines followed after. Ivory turned his head briefly to view the red devil, sensing his sealed powers, lowering his head and leaving the shattered room.

Dante coveted, "dough", biting his lips in ecstasy and heading straight towards Rebel whom was trying to get rid of the inoperable mask, not realising that it was now dyed gold; making it stronger. Dante's approaches vaporising the fortified steel as he dragged his rapier alongside him. The Phoenix consequently traded shoulders, much to Reb's delight. The sanctified bird hadn't forgotten that the dark haired sprite had been overseeing her growth, grooming his hair. The unusual trio were about to walk straight past the unnamed man idly standing by Phantoms ashes.

"Spar-da" Rebellion addressed and was promptly ignored.

Yamato transpired right in front of the aloof devil arm. Her body clothed in an emerald Kimono, "our Master has waited a long time for your…awakening", and how could words ever convey what Sparda had endured secretly for his blades revival.

Dante overheard as he arrived at their specific location, "you know this pr…!" the casual insult never escaped his lips. Mato had sealed them shut.

"This is your father's blade…Dante, Sparda."

Dante lowered her hand and finished with an impolite scowl, "…oh!"

Sparda angled his head as a piece of the ceiling collapsed beside them, uttering "Little monster" under his breathe for the only one who would understand the secreted familiarity of his words. Rebel peered from behind Dante's distrustful shoulder. Unbeknownst to him the outwardly uninterested sprite had involuntarily kept his neglected blade company during his gloomiest hours.

Dante tugged, "lets go" food was the main agenda right now. All this unnecessary shit could wait. He didn't give a flying fuck if his dad's crappy blade had decided to wakeup and make their lives a living hell. He had enough on his plate as it was, including Vergil's flagging rescue, rubbing his crazy mane in extreme agitation, stress and never-ending turbulence. He couldn't even remember what day it was let alone the exact day his parents had left them alone!

Rebel however didn't budge, effortlessly invading Sparda's personal space, the way he had done countless times. His misty enigma was drawing him. It had become a source of comfort, speaking intently. "Y-you...is staying, w-with us, n-not sleep...a-again?"

Dante and Mato stared at one another. The question was actually a good one. They had no clue to what Sparda's real intentions were. The blonde extended his hand towards Rebellions face, then past his shoulder. To sleep or not to sleep was the imminent question, tantalisingly aware that a part of him wished to return to the midst of familiar infernos and ruins, deciding his long-awaited fate with a prevalent yawn. He didn't belong in Sparda's haven and was too famished to return to Luci's abyss. The Phoenix flapped and shifted onto his digits, "accendo", the designation and greeting to which the bird's ruby eyes gleamed brighter. He knew exactly what it was, a true rarity. Luci would fall in love with it, and eventually cause it to rot. Rebel pressed him softly, sensing the ever-changing tides.

"You is s-staying" anxiously.

"Ver-gil...g-gone" explaining the latest problem as best as he could to his longstanding confidant.

Sparda whispered, "fatum" stroking the fiery feathers and letting the Phoenix take wing.

Yamato was unnerved by the curt retort, "fate...!" the translation for the others to learn.

Sparda made known, "he won't be returning, not what you knew of him".

Dante got in his face, "what did you just say!"

The blonde turned away contemptuously, "do you know who Lucifer is, brat" restoring the crumbled grounds by his exquisite dark powers and avoiding them seeing the sparkling smile that would most definitely cause some serious mistrust. He loved Luci, despite the others extravagant thirst for destruction. Obviously, none of these oblivious children knew of Luci and their heredity linkage to him. Sparda would always keep his immoral lineage a secret. Rebel gazed obediently from behind having caught a glimpse of Sparda's troubling smile and its deliberate concealment. The red devil however didn't care.

"The worlds biggest jackass and bitch!" raging at being termed a brat, rather then the relevance of Lucifer. "It doesn't matter who he is, or who you are, am getting my brother back. We don't need your help. So stay the fucks out of my…" pausing to breath in the scent of pizza sizzling, "cheese" the slow slur of calm and complete lack of attention.

Mato asked instead, "will you, not even speak to him…that his first born has been abducted, that his family is under attack, that his house has fallen to pieces, and…that his honoured blade stands idly by" the brave indictment.

Sparda abridged, "what you will bring back of him…will terrify you" knowing she belonged to Vergil and turning to finish the restoration of the crumpled grounds with words that were fear-provoking, for they held foregone conclusions, "As for calling my said owner, he knows all too well that there would have been consequences for crossing the riven…so here we are", vocalised with nothing but objectivity, on all accounts.

Surely he was not liable for Sparda's ongoing mess. Time had hardened his heart and sleep had set him free from the cage that his owner had inadvertently built by dragging him away from the demon realms, into the mortal ones, seeking to return to the inner void he had created for himself, cut-off.

Yamato bowed her head for the second time in esteem and acceptance, understanding that his words were not vindictive but the actuality, apprising. "He…misses your company. Our Master has never wielded another, after you", the eternal message of his owner's allegiance to him, even if the other no longer reciprocated.

Sparda eluded "he will find another" knowing all too well it wasn't true. Sparda had refused to take on another blade, choosing to wield him in his deteriorating blade form, about to leave for the safety of his restored chambers, when he was firmly addressed by the one wordlessly judging him.

Dante conveyed. "Y 'knows…I used to watch my old man. Sunup and sundown he'd be taking care of you. Not that I gave a shit! I was too fucking selfish to notice anything around me", squeezes Rebel's frosty fingers in sentient repentance. "But y 'know, even a fuck-up like me noted that. So don't you dare say he will find another?"

"You left him when he needed you the most" meeting those unmarked purple orbs with his insightful ones. "Coz you knew that would hurt him the fucking most and it did", reciting the man before him for all his inner defects, "and I'm the fucking…brat!" the final dig with a wilful smirk.

Sparda stood in the corridor gazing at his critic with familiar contemplation's. Dante resembled a brazen devil even in his human form; how strange. He could see why the tiny blade loved this erratic brat. Rebel clasped Dante's fingers mildly to detach from them. Sparda observed the young human and his blade and their strange intimacy and bond for all its unusual makings.

Rebel quietly relocated towards his exterior, unafraid to trace the origins of his emblem, made by spikes that only knew how to cut and by no means heal. Only Sparda had been strong enough to endure all of Lucy's past brutality upon his flesh. Why he was so dearly missed, for he was truly unalterable; exceptional. The reason for why he had been handpicked by the Devil himself to serve his beloved younger brother? Within these resonances Rebellion's lips locked onto Sparda's without warning. He kissed him. The third kiss was reserved for the one who wanted no part of its fidelity.

"Ver-gil" was the asking between serene lips.

Sparda's jaw scoured the side of Rebel's to perceive his hidden essence, impassive to the tender caress, "you've tasted his blood" the open thought to which the other placed his hand over his own heart, "He-he…s-saved me".

Dante lost it, "quit smooching him!" positively lunging at Rebel and forcefully taking him with an irritated good-bye. "We don't need you and neither does my old man, so go back to sleep already!" exiting the room.

Sparda folded his arms, "how adorable" he didn't get a chance to return the cute caress, which was probably a good thing in view of the sadistic qualities that Luci had gifted him, abstaining. Did he not say he didn't want to be a part of this world? Yet he had never imagined the house would become this interesting, glancing at his evident bareness.

Yamato sensed, "the Master's garments are in his chambers. I will prepare the drink he has been keeping…for your Emergence" vanishing to prepare the red wine that had been carefully stored in the weapons chamber.

Mato knew Sparda's awakening was by no means a coincidence. Surely he must have recognised the danger this household was in? Yet she was more troubled by his detachment then anyone else? Returning to the kitchen to extract a crystal chalice when she noticed that the kitchen was empty and the unlikely celebrations were taking place outside.

The succubae had created a canopy of thick red roses; leading straight towards the deluxe gardens, the aroma of sweet-smelling plants and platters was patently inviting. She followed the scented pathway; lit by orbs, catching a sight of the Phoenix as she took her first flight outdoors for exploration, leaving a trail of gold-glitter to site Dante's whereabouts that was shamelessly scoffing pizza, landing on Rebel instead as he earnestly gazed at her onset. Was this a dream? It felt illusory after what they had just battled together? The katana took her seat beside Dante, unscrewing the expensive wine with a loud pop.

The last sprite to leave the vicinities of the mansion was Sparda himself, dressed peculiarly in one of his owner's, made-to-order, all black suits. Yanking a rose from the canopy and setting it in his pocket for contrast. If others were to gaze upon this scene they would have mistaken it for a lively celebration; marking his return. Who would have thought these crucial introductions would transpire in such unusual circumstances. Yet as he approached the household, he had never cared to learn about, they grew quieter and quieter. All eyes were now fixed on the stranger that was he. Ebony growled from behind him. Cerberus appeared in front, testifying.

"Who are you…?"

Yamato ascended, "this is…Sparda, please pay him your respect".

The other sprites couldn't believe it, a few seconds of shockwaves before the nod of cordially. They had only ever seen the inactive rapier in its velvet coffin and there was something about Sparda's physical manifestation that was a little frightening, considering, he had been punishing them the moment he had awoken. Alex belched inwardly to prevent breaking another silence, technically not knowing what "Sparta" meant?

Yamato handed him the beaker, "please, join us".

Sparda eyed the spot next to Rebel who smiled at him considerately. Dante aggressively shoved a tray of pizza in that very location; "I don't think so", the lack of gallantry.

Sparda smiled and drifted away. Deciding to leave the children be and head in the direction of the marble pergola, with wrapping of sweet jasmine, a sip of his wine as he sat on the empty bench, bedecked by their fallen hues, closing his eyes. Luci whispered into his left ear, "finally awake are we, thought that dumb tarantula would be loud enough?"

Sparda explicated, "I was sadly awoken before that, by them" Heeding the hand slipping across his chest to undo his shirt and burnish his nipple; licentious, as was the rejoinder, "shall I ravish you here, in front of them?"

The fiery blonde smirked as he caught his naked and immoral reflection in the looking glass of Lucifer's private chambers whose crown arose from within his legs, slowly sucking his inner calf, "you could never resist me" the vivid reminder "and I have always regretted gifting you...to him".

A relationship between devil arms and their proprietor was undeniably forbidden but as with all rules Luci had broken this one too, for fun of course. He hooted, "Return to me", hand sinking to wrap his quintessence to rouse him. "You will always have a home with me. He can never give you what you desire the most", reminded with a cold kiss upon his lips, thrusting into him, "isn't he the reason you destroy yourself" overshadowing.

The dishonoured blade widened his sights; he reviled his filthy image in these countless mirrors. For Lucifer's fleshy teachings had deliberately caused a demented thirst to rise within. He had wrongly begun to desire Sparda by the same token. It was his Masters image he wanted to see etched in these reflections; transgression embedded. Lucifer contrariwise fuelled his vile one-sided passions, inciting a never-ending thirst within; chasing a mirage, until the inevitable occurred.

The onset of the one named Eva would teach him a notable lesson. Good and evil are not equal, nor were God and the Devil. One would surely eclipse the other, disillusioned. For this definitive reality had played out before his very eyes. Sparda was there the night his owner had transgressed further then Lucifer and himself; encountering a mortal and falling in love with her. His owner's alteration, by her hands, had created an unstoppable revolt in the realms and within him. The fingertips that exerted him for evil were undeniably reformed, for good. It had utterly confounded him. Sparda's reverted touch was unnerving; he had felt the love he possessed for her in the gripping fingertips that clasped him firmly. This touch was agonising to bear for Sparda's fingers had only ever infolded his steel, wordlessly transferring all his inner demons to his heeding rapier; those tender tips were beginning to crush his iron will. His blade was simply unable to endure his love for another; forsaking his Master from that point on.

Sparda still preferred to linger in the shadows, for the light would ultimately burn him, choosing ceaseless slumber over excruciating heartache. And yet the nurturing hands that had come to his rescue had been his Master's, constantly showering him with the eternal rainstorms that would incessantly pursue him…no matter where he tried to flee in the crumbling desert that was his fading essence...eternally trapped and forever damned. He couldn't escape his holder's hands, no matter how hard he tried. Sparda had a hold over him like no other, and he could never break free. Plucking the rose away and letting it's florets fall inside the wine glass, stirring them and gulping the mixture.

"Why are you not with them" the addressing remark towards the one crouching behind the arch equally sad. The other loner replied.

"I don't belong here" head down Ivory seated beside him staring at his likeness.

Ebony and Cerberus were involved in a tug of war over beef jerky. Ivory seeped quiet blood tears, staining the marble. His brother was now a permanent fixture of this household, tamed. Sparda gave him a casual glance over, "he certainly is at home here" ruthlessly applying salt to Ivory's wounds that didn't answer.

Sparda assumed, "does it hurt to know he has been claimed by that little monster?"

Ivory raised his head, "he already has…the one beside him" referring to Rebel whom was searching for the two of them in the gathering. "He does not need us, and...I have never been needed by anyone, not even...him".

Sparda twirled the jasmine amid his thumb, "I don't intend to stay either" the remittance; he couldn't face his kindly holder and if Luci got a hold of him…God help them all!

The wolf questioned, "...you belong to their father, the Supreme Alpha?"

The potent vane elucidated, "We are simply their slaves...aren't we?"

Ivory blinked gazing at the unshackled sprites that could roam at will and yet here they were serving this house, "are they truly slaves..." quietly observant.

Sparda watched their engagements coldly, "did you happen to meet his twin. Describe him to me?"

The beast told, "He is fierce, he defeated the two of us...alone".

Sparda's hands tapped the wolf's skull whom twitched at the abrupt close contact as he appeared beside him, "let me see...", projecting the wolves memories which came to life in the middle of the pergola.

Vergil was clasping two bodies inside his arms; drenched in blood. Ivory had turned to watch if he would be pursued; capturing the last still image of the other. Sparda beheld on one knee his owners missing son which Luci had chosen to destroy, close enough, to view his blue irises. Oh he knew very well what the Devil was capable of and the permanent scars he could so effortlessly leave. Vergil was Sparda's perfect replication to the core. Lucifer wished to attack his brother's heart. The phoenix soared and landed on the bench with a loud squawk, finally recognizing her error.

Sparda told, "Track his whereabouts", while retrieving a rose seed lodged amid his fangs and placing it into her beak. "Drop it when you find him but do not enter his lair".

The blazing bird soared to height; setting the moonlit sky alight with her fires in pursuit of the one she truly belonged to. She was the best tracker in the world, for she, could cross all realms, vanishing with the gust. Sparda turned to find he was encircled. The image of Vergil had drawn everyone to his location, including Dante, who slowly stooped to gaze at his missing twin.

"He said not to contact my old man".

Sparda thought "its better this way, if your father doesn't find out"; all hell would break loose which is what Luci wanted, trying to keep a lid on the torrid cauldron that was the conflicted brothers. Some things apparently didn't change!

Dante erected, "can we...get him back?"

The blonde calculated, "I can bring him back but as you were the one who wrongly awoke me, there will be a supplementary charge", this entitled devil arm was ranked first on the devil scale and thus was prestigious by scope and design.

The red devil sighed sitting on the bench as Vergil's image washed-out, "you know the man in the mask, don't you?"

Sparda adjusted his diamond cuffs, "he's...Lucifer, The Devil, my former wielder and your father's brother" hush transpired at the blatant disregard for keeping family secrets locked away. "I was entrusted to your father...by him" the shocking truth and plucking of buds.

Dante rubbed his face, "figures" immediately accepting the dreadful insight calmly as though it were nothing. "What's the charge?" while judging him with translucent gazes.

Sparda chewed the jasmine as Rebel came into his assessment again, "give me your pledge, that what I request of you…you will give to me, without reservation" deceptive play of words to gain consent if Rebel didn't comply with his concluding wishes.

Dante rose, "I need to know what it is first. Let's just say that I don't trust you, considering, you were pretty chummy with fat ass and Satan!"

The shady weapon plucked more florae to eat, "I see, well then, go ahead and save him. Oh...you can't because you don't even know where he is? Am I right?"

The red devils cheeks inflamed, "you…" infuriated by how easily he was being manipulated, "the pledge…what is it?"

Sparda grinned, pointing, "I wish to speak with your personal vane…alone, and that's all" credibly persuasive. "Do I have your consent?"

Dante buffed impatiently, "guess so", vague, "don't you dare touch…!"

The blond rapidly imparted with Rebel clutched over his shoulder, "five minutes" shooting upwards and out of sight for a private chat on the hassle-free rooftops, dropping Rebel on the cushy sofa and returning just as Dante shut his mouth, "him..!"

Sparda patrolled briefly, "you…you….and you, wait here for us" electing the sprites he wished to take on the pending expedition, having seen their skills. Yamato, Ebony and Ivory stared at one another. "The rest of you depart, oh and if we haven't returned by dawn. Drop these kernels into this circle and my Master shall be alerted to intercede, as he wills".

This order was granted to the succubae that could see the demonic circle swell and shape over the earth they stood on, imperceptible to the others, marvelling at the power. The kernels were bound in a velvet pouch and fashioned out of Sparda's inner jacket to the nearest girl, "catch", and gone, leaving the ladies to whisper in circles and assess the grains to judge their upkeep.

Ifrit whirred, "proceed to your stations…now".

Agni and Rudra scratched their headless heads and decided against asking any questions having noticed Ifrit's rampant negative energy for not being chosen.

Cerberus puffed his nostrils and watched Ebony. "He only selected you, because you to belong to him now", turning away in smug pride. The wolf growled in irritation but decided not to add a parting bark, secretly beginning to get along with the other canine.

Ivory watched uneasily. Why had he been selected by the Head Devil Arm? He wasn't a part of this group, stepping backwards and prodding a foot. Dante looked down at him, "hey", the casual remark to which the weak-willed wolf murmured an apology, "I will leave" bumping into Alex's legs who related. "You got two of em now…neat" attracted to the wolf he hadn't met properly, patting him down vigorously since he seemed to be pleasanter. "Their jinni's too right and so is Sparta?"

Dante was depressed, "Its Sparda…you asshole and your going home in a fucking Uber…call it!"

Alex doubted, "D, don't let your parents find out about the shit that went down here, otherwise they will never let you forget it…ever", caressing Ivory's ear whose tail wagged without his awareness. "Not leaving till Vergil gets back. I have something to ask him" definitely staying until the very end.

Dante drew closer to Ivory, bleeding his fingertips with a bite, "think that grouch over there wants you to stay too", casually securing his extra firearm with a humble say, "stay".

The shy wolf's head lifted to view his gauging confidant. Ebony silently watched. Dante had spoken his hearts desire. It was the dominant wolf who couldn't be apart from his submissive counterpart. Yet he would never admit it. But from this point on, neither would he dominate, nor govern the other. He had forgotten they would be free sprites, at all times, because the one that now ruled them was himself unimpeded. Will and ego were long forgotten. Ivory accepted Dante's blood, submitting compliantly to the young devil that set upright.

"That prick has three minutes" expressed evenly.

Alex gestured, "Guy in the suit...got some serious swag!" apparently impressed to which Dante decided against throttling his friend's neck again. "3 minutes" echoed impatiently.

Rebel still sat where he was since Sparda had become abstracted by dint of the telescope, "Spar-da" the polite notice to which the other raised a bit, "exquisite" while regarding him, making Rebellion unsuspectingly blush, and Sparda to sneer. "I have a request" now seated warmly beside him, curling an arm to draw him into a hug. "I want you to…hide me", breathe smelling improbably of florae.

Rebel babbled, "h-hide!" outright baffled by the bizarre request.

Sparda baited, "as a reward for returning Vergil to you"; touching the illuminating dots surrounding his eyes, "tonight".

Rebel wasn't heeding, "hide y-you" the inner say to which the blonde offered him an embezzled blue orb that hovered in his palm, explaining, "The metal mask that transpires over your mouth is evidently in the wrong location", tapping his temple with the element that vanished into his pulsating holes. "It is to shield your eyes, for it allows you to see your enemy's inner flaw". The glinting metallic casing materialized across Rebels eyes, casing them correctly.

Sparda detailed, "Now you truly...see".

Reb could comprehend where the other's vitality lay and would require a finishing blow…the rose sculpted scar of course…Luci's durable jibe. Rebel erected and stared down to view the entire estate; now illuminated with surges of explosive energy, locking onto Dante's pulsing aura that was grumpily waiting for his return, still cursing. So much power was constrained in the body that hadn't quite learned how to exercise it.

Sparda's hand tugged the sapphire tresses, "do you see…it?" The purple and red mist darted towards his burial site where he could neither be found, nor revived, a black hole in the earth's realms, carefully sited on the edges of the estate. He had created it, as a final resort, before he slept. He was bound to Sparda by a blood contract so couldn't act upon his free-will and nor counter his Masters wishes but having gained his sons consent meant there was now a plausible loophole to indefinitely escape. Rebel was an extension of Dante and thus could act out his orders.

Sparda had decided his fate. Love was an open wound; one bled him incessantly and the other wouldn't stop applying the indispensable bandages, trapped in this never-ending cycle of hurt and healing, he simply desired closure. Sparda was afraid of what might transpire if he continued roused and selected a side, clutching Rebel's troubled regards as he contemplated the gaping abyss that was to become the other's asylum.

"Once you store me here. I will seal it shut with my powers" concluding his death. His lingering presence had prevented his owner from acquiring a new devil arm. Sparda would have to be the one to ultimately let him go. "And since I may never get another chance", swooping in for a wholehearted kiss, wanting to show the slow learner how it was truly done, tongue slowly spreading the tense gaps, swallowing the other's mouth, whilst wrenching the sumptuous mane coloured by Vergil's blood, excessively pulling and licking the unresponsive lips, leaving them stinging, hurt and unbearably unfilled. Rebel's orbs darkened to the blondes shrouded and uncontrollable lusts, wounded. There was no love in this caress.

Sparda remarked, "Now you truly see me for what I am…evil", freeing his hold over the unblemished rapier. "I don't want Him to see me. I wish to rest Rebellion" transferring the burdened blade to his irked owner with a small parting stroke, unconsciously replicating the gentle kiss he had received from the virgin blade, "mortem".

Dante shuddered at their abrupt return and noticed Rebel's streaked eyes. "The fuck…did you do!" checking his blade over for any physical sign of sexual molestation.

Sparda displayed the lent Rolex, as though he didn't hear, "just in time".

The Phoenix returned in a flash of light, having dropped the rose seed outside Lucifer's enchanted fortress. Vergil's unreal location had been traced by his loyal tracker and the seed had been safely sowed; just outside the precipices of an ancient castle, sited in the spectral realms. The ciphers to the portal could now be dialled. Sparda activated the portal with his blood by plunging an identical seed in its innermost circle; linking one location to the other. The portal warped into being; counting heads to find the icy katana was absent, mildly frowning.

"Sparda" was the deferential greeting from behind him. Mato was ready to embark this quest, momentarily gazing at Rebel as he stood with a heavy heart. She had pried on their private conversation on the roofs, equally burdened by it, for it had touched a fragile nerve. Why would he seek death when Sparda desired so desperately for his company, recalling the night she had spent in the cellar awaiting Vergil's judgement? The one and only time she had yearned for death was in overwhelming fear of losing her master. So why was it that a blade so precious was willing to kill itself to escape the one that would never wield another? Sparda would be distraught to find his knife-edge gone. She would never permit this loss.

The waiting wolves erected to pass into its dark entries, side by side, matching strides to stand beside the red devil; shielding him. Every sprite that was going to be left behind watched intently as Sparda was about to lead them into the nameless realms which he had once called his home. There was absolutely no other they would have entrusted Dante to, except, the sprite that shared his father's name, for in the demonic realms a wielder only gave this right to a singular vane for never having been defeated in battle; utterly invincible. Sparda's air was worthy of this feat and power. However, it was an assumption on their part that Sparda was the one whom had named his blade after him. The alluring devil arm turned to smirk at the empty pergola and wineglass.

"Farewell" purposely confusing.

Alex coolly nods, ruffled that the parting was wished-for them, brusquely worried, "So, what's the plan when you guys get there?"

Dante gruff "like hell I know! Probably have to fight a freaky lizard or a goddamn gorilla!"

Yet, the reckless devil was the first to enter the swirling pool, taking Rebel with him whom was still hushed. In some way, he had believed Sparda's every word, and that his father's knife-edge could be the one to bring Verge back and that's all that mattered. The wolves shadowed. Yamato agreeably waited for Sparda to enter before her, attentive to his every move. The one in question crossed the thresholds, inattentive to all; leaving only the altered ground.

Alex stared at the earth, and then the vast sky, whispering a singular verse to his Creator. Cerb crouched beside him blowing puffs of fog; "He Hears and Sees All, Omniscient". The humanoid sat down cross-legged, "it's so weird..." staring at the frightful teeth and foggy entity with some serious appreciation.

"What is...weird!" paradoxically quoted by the spine-chilling demonic dog.

Alex figured, "that...I feel at...home here".

Ifrit foretold from above, joining in the chat, restless, "Our Master has made it so, only peace flourishes here". The gentle succubae smiled and clasped the seeds tightly..."Sparda" the whispers of love and hope of dawn.

Agni started a fire, emerging beside them, "have you not heard of our Master?"

Rudra parroted from the left with a salver of marshmallows that had been especially made for master Dante whom sadly missed out; "brother, he has not, where we begin?"

Alex helped himself, "D, never really talks about…this stuff" stuffing his face.

Ifrit avidly launched, "Sparda is the greatest warrior who has ever lived; protector of the earthly realms". The campfire sizzled as the blistering gloves begun the tale of Sparda's magnificent origins. All ears were firmly heeding. How else were they to pass these worrisome hours?

Lucifer's lips browsed the wineglass, "marriage most certainly dulls passions" whilst spying on the unexciting tales, "the one I named after you though, is entirely wild", parting to pass into Vergil's open chambers, "Leave", to which the guarding snake unravelled its twirl about the blue devils arm. Ares tamely returned to its ruler's cage among the foul doves. The Master of trickeries silently loomed over his captive, contemplating him, "I suppose, I will have to return you to Sparda…but only when I am thru playing with you?"

Vergil awoke to the contraction of arms that painfully bound his stomach; he gazed at the one clinging to his chest, "Dante?" He was having the same repetitive dream that occurred every night. The child clasped him tighter, "sto-vie" the foreseen demand, staring at the crunched paper that was fixed in his knuckle, a drawing, from the past…what was it again…hazy recollections of fragmented retentions spilled through his being. Dante morphed with age and held him tighter, wrapping him hard enough to imprint his flesh with contusions. "I love you…" the recurring revelation as his chest was engraved by a kiss to his heart, muscular legs folding upwards in controlled passion making Vergil sigh deeply, heart and breathes rapidly altering. They were lying in bed, stripped and bound. He was on the brinks of uninterrupted longings, as was their inevitable destiny. Love was painful to bear.

Dante climbed closer to his lips and the picture fell out of Vergil's untying grip…they were drowning again in that vast ocean, which only a few could ever understand and be brave enough to go beneath. Dante's eyes seeped blood as his inner devil wept for closure that it could only ever find in the beating heart of the man before him, "you...made me forget…you, why?"

Vergil unfailingly trailed his bleeding rims amidst his lips, answerable, "have I told you…that I have loved you from the moment we shared a cradle…" the painful admittance before swallowing the connected tears that made their love so very illicit, "And I am forever lost…without you", kissing his brothers lips in a painfully slow osculation. He wanted to feel every motion of what was deemed utterly forbidden, about to misplace him, hair untying, they looked exact as their bodies hard-pressed. He was ready to commit. Vergil had never shared himself with another. And how could he; when he had only ever desired one soul, fingertips roving Dante's rising and falling back whose lips roamed his ear to deliver; "Filthy...child".

Vergil recognised that say, eyes widening in abrupt clarity to who he was truly laying in bed with, a devious Devil that had merged his dreams and reality, as one. Dante's hair was rapidly altering as he straddled his stunned figure; pleased, limbs lengthening about his hips; spanning him, white wings erupting from their fleshly folds, seamless ribs mounting and bent, fingers inclosing his restrained torso. 

"How does my lifeblood….taste" the asking.

Lucifer's plasma was pulsating inside Vergil's vein, corrupting his own, searing and burning. White feathers rained down on him as he lay in a trance beholding with gut-wrenching eyes, what was evidently undeniable. A demon that beheld a stunning Seraph, "swallow..." the appreciation as it started to rain blood from the ceiling. His inner devil awoke in hungry thirst, unable to contain it, frenzied. Vergil triggered, misplacing control, fighting its savage nature to repossess, de-triggering he spat on his accoster…furious at himself for having been deceived so easily. The feathers froze mid-air, as did the drips of blood, intensely surreal. Vergil sealed his eyes shut.

So Lucifer's lips recited to his hearing, as an alternative, the enigmatic voice drawing him upwards as though his soul was not one with his body. And the taste of this mans blood amid his sunken lips made him usher a singular verse, "Father!" the despair as the encroaching wings entombed him in utter darkness. "Wretched..." were the echoes from the distance…"Blood" the ensuing reverberation which made him plug his ears. He was sat in a dark cave, trembling all over, dying for light when he caught a throbbing glow of emanating glints. A naked and bruised teenager with a palpitating arm was tearing his flesh away, stopping to view him with drained eyes.

Vergil's flagging judgments drifted towards Nero and his shredded appendage as he plucked away at it. The same compulsion coursed through his entire being, biting his teeth, he had to get the cursed droplet out of his veins, but how? "Bleed..." the teen told in a low voice growing tired from his never-ending exertions, for his flesh repetitively resealed and there was no antidote. Vergil's numb fingers seized his warm appendage to end the cycle of self-mutilation, squeezing. It was painful to watch the spectacle of despair and dejection, as though it was his intended fate. Nero broke away from his trembling fingers.

"You can never escape him" as his imaged was vanquished behind a veil of darkness.

"He lurks…inside you now" the dark foretelling.

Vergil shivered irrepressibly, unable to grasp where he was, acute pain shot up his spine as he was pulled back into violent consciousness. Lucifer's wings had pierced him into the realms of awareness; curving talons were deeply inserted in his chest, dicing upwards. The stark-naked Devil quoted.

"You mustn't…resist me, or else you will lose your mind and know this. Every mark I leave on your body will not rectify. So do not make me hurt you, more then you can bear".

Vergil was losing this contest and the monster that was seated above him was slowly consuming him, both inward and out. The blue devil beckoned his phantom blades which abruptly halted mid-air, precisely above Luci's head that viewed their malicious arc, "how predictable" the lovely say as the lean figure swathed his and whispered in his ear, "one drop of my blood, taken willingly, is as though you have swallowed an ocean, with seven more oceans besides, unending", embracing him behind his head. 

"The deed is done and yet I am thoroughly disappointed…so how shall we precede, child".

Vergil defiantly met his eyes as the penetrating hooks dwelled deeper and deeper into his flesh, growing excruciatingly aroused and equally revolted. Lucifer's lips obscured his in unemotional examination, rubbing their dividing lines, making Vergil's body shudder and quake; dejected by his appalling state and worsening mind. His aroused tormenter however started his watchful examination of their stimulated physiques, deciding where to begin his repetitive cycle of desecration, as was his decree, when he was vetoed by an emission of blood from the others jugular.

Vergil had seized the mired phantom blade and had pierced his own collar; "bleed…" the dying laughter, choosing to embrace insanity if he could no longer contain it, spurting blood and preventing curing, having learned the trick from whom else but Dante. If you cannot think straight, you cannot cure…chancing death over looming self-defeat. He could no longer control his body's impulses but his heart would never let him submit.

Lucifer lusciously licked the hybrid blood that had sprayed his face, wanting to partake in unbound chaos, absorbing it with a smile, dually struck and pleased by the others fierceness. "Touché" the thrilled whisper of contentment as Vergil lost consciousness, bidding his pet; "Ares..." the reptile arrived transitioning besides Vergil's legs, intoxicated by the scents. Lucifer cradled the draining devil, "makes sure you drink his spilled blood, with mine, it will warm your flesh for a period of time".

Ares textured their merged blood from the gory cradle, it didn't taste like the ones whose scales pulsed with light...stronger, for it belonged to Sparda. Ares consumed and erected to take on Vergil's aura, replicating his wounds...crouching in silence, testing his knuckles for their circulating warmth, creating a perfect deception of the other; smoke and mirrors.

Luci expressed, "Delay them for a little while, I need more time with him".

Ares touched his slightly leaner figure and locked his tresses into their exact point, arriving outside the gates to greet the oncoming guests. He would play the role of a captive that had just fled his enclosures with perfect stealth, taking his strategic position in the snow-capped woods. Vergil's bloody imitation strolled barefoot into the nightfall, leaving a trajectory of blood in what was becoming a perfect snowstorm.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art Inspired by "A Devil's Reform: The Mansion"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6273523) by [tweese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tweese/pseuds/tweese)




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